


Quit Playing

by RIShan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Badly Written Smut, Character Death, Eventual Fluff, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild Language, Mpreg, Rape/Non-con Elements, Russian Mafia Hale Family, Sexual Content, Threatened Miscarriage, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Violence, graphic birth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 35,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3414857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RIShan/pseuds/RIShan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stared at the wooden box with intricate designs carved into it and an unrecognizable crest on top.  A rusted lock, aged with the many years spent in the vault, comes undone with the careful turn of the equally old key given to him by the man he loved before he passed.  He never thought he would be alone in the world, never even thought of the possibility of losing his only remain parent.<br/>For the second time in a long while, he cried in despair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this fic that has been in my mind for some time.

Prologue:

Stiles Stilinski is anything and everything but normal. He knew the moment he turned ten years old that his whole world would change. His mother had just passed away after a tedious and painful battle against cancer, a disease so potent and lethal. He had been there of course. The memory of his deceased mother would never leave his mind no matter how much he tried to forget. He had gone to visit her in the hospital. She was a deathly pale hue and weak when he arrived. Being the little boy he was, he wanted the comfort only a mother can give. Stiles had climbed atop the bed, too big for the thin women, and had cuddled with her. He didn't cry when she fell into an eternal sleep. She had just finished reading him, his currently favorite fairytale, _Little Red Ridding Hood._ Tired and in the protective embrace of his mother, he had closed his eyes reassured by the warmth provided by the most important person to him in the world.  She was his everything.

However, he woke up hours later to the frantic buzzing of the machinery connected to his mother.  He had looked at her in confusion but he knew.  Deep down he knew that he would never see the whiskey colored eyes he adored and inherited.  He just stared.  The uneven rise and fall of her chest was now still.  Her hair was already thin and balding from the chemotherapy and her skin was ghastly.  She was no longer the bright women that taught him math or how to write his name.  She was no longer wearing that bright smile that twinkled in her eyes or the strict parent that chastised him when he committed a petty crime of stealing freshly baked cookies.  She was simply gone.  And although it tore his young heart, he didn't shed a tear.

He didn't cry during the funeral or even after when he and his dad returned to the abandoned house he used to call home.  He simply held onto his dad's hand as he was lead through the scary world.

When he turned twelve his dad sat down with him one night.  It was rather awkward considering they hadn't really spoken unless for the occasional brief greetings in the morning.  They didn't speak, not for the longest time.  Neither knew how to start or what to really talk about.  Yet Stiles knew and all he did was hug his dad, the man he admired, his hero.  No words had to be exchanged to understand each other, it was enough to know that they both would be together.

Two years later it happened.  Stiles had just come home from a long day on the streets.  He hadn't expected to come home and find his dad lying on the bathroom floor covered in broken tiles.  It was already like that when they moved in but the droplets of blood was new.  Stiles rushed to his dad's side and checked him over only to find the source of the blood being his dad's slightly opened mouth.  The older man was running a high fever and convulsing until Stiles managed to stop it.  He had grabbed towels and ice from the disgusting refrigerator that barely kept their food from rotting.  With the strength that a fourteen year old could muster, he dragged his unconscious father to the single torn bed in their shared room.

John Stilinski had lost his job shortly after losing his wife to a monstrous disease.  He could only afford a rundown house in the bad part of town with the life insurance his wife had left behind.  Sometimes both he and his son ran cold after not being able to pay the bills.  Despite such terrible living conditions, his son was never hungry, even if he had to give up his share of food for him.  Being poor meant that Stiles couldn't attend school like normal children but it always amazed John how his son never complained or resented him for it.  Stiles understood and was grateful for the misery they lived in because he at least still had his dad.  That didn't mean that John wasn't dying inside.  Behind his son's exterior was a brilliant boy who would never get the opportunity to really enjoy life.  He would do anything in his power to protect his only child, even after death.

But after Stiles found his dad that day, his health only declined steadily.  When Stiles turned sixteen John Stilinski's heart officially stopped beating.  Stiles had witnessed his father slowly fade and deteriorate.  His hair had grown grey and his beard unkempt.  Sullen eyes filled with years of wisdom were now dim, sunken.  Stiles had been by his side the whole time.  With a weak hand he pointed to a rattling bookshelf and asked Stiles to bring the book his mother read before she left.  On trembling legs, he did as told and reluctantly did as ordered.  He had brought the book over unable to really look it over.

"There is evil in this world beyond explanation," John had said in a hoarse voice.

Stiles remained silent as his dad took out a chained necklace with a key laced through it from the book.  John had looked at it as if it contained the world's greatest secret.  Along with the key he took out a piece of paper with an address and the crest of a howling wolf looking toward the moon on it.  He handed it to his confused son with a small smile on his bluish lips.

"On your twenty-first birthday go to this address and give them your name, there they will give you access to a vault-"

"You can't leave me," Stiles protests weakly.

"Stiles, you know I love you, but it's time to let go," John whispers.

He coughs uncontrollably for a moment, blood dribbling down his chin.  Stiles immediately wipes it away as tears sting his eyes and a knot clogs his throat.

"You are brilliant and I would do anything to protect you, I know you are strong.  Don't ever forget how much we love you, your mother and I," With a final smile and a small squeeze from the hand Stiles held firmly he closes his eyes.

"Dad?"

No answer.

"Dad, please."

No response.

"Daddy?"

That was the first time Stiles had cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Spoiler: None  
> Next Update: Soon  
> Thanks For Reading!


	2. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continue to find out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you enjoyed the beginning of my fic.  
> Thanks to everyone for the Kudos/Comments.  
> Enjoy!

Chapter Two: The Game

Derek Hale, dark brooding and mysterious. Seemingly alone without caring for anyone but himself.  His exterior cruel and menacing, a bolder or brick wall. Impossible to move and an unstoppable force who has suffered more than a human being should have.  A past as dark as the pitch night sky with no moon or any shining stars as a guide, pathetic really. Even in his own home he is a stranger to the people that love and care for him.  And he scoffs at the ridiculous idea, who would care for such a naive human being, someone who isn't even human.

He should have known but was too blinded by the love that never existed.  What else does that say about his weak character?

Theo Hale just stares at the letter in his hands. Pliant as a sheet should be and fragile like a leaf. Yet deadly to the heart. He still can't believe what is written in the scrawl hand writing of his old friend. He simply looks up at his son with a grief stricken expression marring his face. His son is seated across him with a look that can only be considered as concern. With a sigh he puts down the ripped envelope with the letter beside it. Derek simply raises a questioning brow.

"There's a boy in need," he begins.

Derek doesn't say anything, he waits patiently for his father to continue.

"His father has just passed," he continues gravelly.

"And this has anything to do with us because?" He moves his sole remaining pawn forward.

"I am not asking you, instead I am telling you that you will look for that boy and you will marry him," Theo replies in a strict matter of fact tone.

Derek narrows his eyes and stares at the chess board in front of him as if it has personally offended him.

"Why me?"

"You know why Derek. It is time for you to move on from your self wallowing and pity. I never thought I'd say this but, grow up. You made a mistake, everyone does, now take ownership for it and move on," he answers almost cruelly.

"He's human," he states, it isn't really a question.

"And?" Theo raises a brow.

"He's weak and can break. I don't need a disgusting pathetic mate," he responds.

Theo slams his hand down on the wooden table where their current game is taken place. It rattles with the sudden force of his hand's contact with the delicate frame.  Yet the earthquake doesn't break the board itself.  His eyes glow a red crimson sea of color expressing his displeasure at his arrogant son. Derek, just as angry, flashes his own alpha eyes, respect be damned.

"You will not force me to mate a disgusting human! I won't tolerate it. I am sorry father but you are no longer alpha, I make my own decisions for the pack and myself," Derek growls.

"Decisions that more often than not lead to mistakes," Theo hisses.

And, ouch that stings. Derek can't seem to formulate a response to that. It reminds him too much of the deep cuts in his heart still fresh despite the years it's been.

"You will find that boy, marry him and protect him like a mate should! I promised his father to keep him safe but you know we can't exactly adopt him with our name a heavy brand on our backs. Genim Stilinski, look for him and care for his broken heart. You two can fix each other, mend the broken pieces. Pick each other up," Theo whispers much more calmly.

His face softens at the look of sheer self loathing in his son's face.

"Derek-"

But Derek walks out the room without another word.

He hates how his life is still manipulated. He doesn't want to mate a human much less babysit him. He'll make sure that it never happens and he makes his father know as much. Theo sighs as he looks at the retreating form of his son's black clothed back. His anger surrounding the atmosphere around him and the tension growing ever so slightly with each passing minute. The older retired alpha takes his seat again and his eyes stray to the letter once more. The past is coming back to haunt them but his friend's request is still imprinted on his mind. He turns back to the chess board and easily captures Derek's abandoned queen. A light knock on the door startles him from his musings. His wife, Talia, saunters in with a sway of her hips.

"What is wrong love?"

"John has passed...He left his poor son alone," Theo relies.

Talia looks towards the closed office door. The only room sound proof in the whole house.

"Did you tell Derek?" She asks.

"He threw a fit," Theo scoffs.

"But you're hopeful?" She smiles.

There's a familiar gleam in her husband's eyes that she recognizes all too well.

"Hoping is a bit too much," he mumbles, but the gleam ever so present.

Derek will bend, he knows, the game isn't over yet.

* * *

 

"Jackson!" Derek growls, it's all he seems to do now.

Jackson appears almost immediately, as if he teleported in front of his alpha. Realizing how angry Derek is, he bares his neck in submission to appease the wolf. Derek merely growls his approval.

"Find Genim Stilinski and with any means possible get rid of him. Make sure former Alpha Hale doesn't find him. Bribe him, give him money even threaten him to leave and move far away from Beacon Hills," he orders.

Jackson offers a nod, no words exchanged or judges his alpha's decision, before disappearing as quickly as he came. He is not stupid enough to challenge his alpha's wishes, if he were, he'd already be a dead man.

A light knock on the door makes Derek temporarily forget what he was fuming about, that is until Boyd, his second in command, strides in.

"You talked to him?" Derek scowls.

Boyd huffs a small laugh and shakes his head amazed at his alpha's childish behavior.

"You're acting like a petulant child," Boyd says.

"Did he tell you to come and chastise me? Maybe make me reconsider?"

"Your hatred towards humans has no justification. One mistake can't make you decide that everyone is the same. Genim needs you," Boyd answers.

"I don't need him."

"As your second," Boyd begins.

"Why are you still here?" Derek interrupts.

"Because the pack can feel your emotions. They're so strong it's overwhelming, even to me. Derek, I can't make you change your mind, we established that, but you need to rethink this. Maybe he'd be a good emissary," he shrugs nonchalantly.

"I have Laura for that," Derek reminds.

"And she has a family. She even has you and the pack, but Genim…by my understanding, he's alone in the world. He won't survive long and you know it. Humans are fragile, they need family as much as we need pack. You can be a ruthless killer of psychopathic maniacs but you can never hurt an innocent and you know it. Just think of the possibility," and with that Boyd leaves him.

Derek almost hates him, _almost_.  What he really hates is how right Boyd is.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.  He'll play this stupid game but that doesn't mean he'll make it easy on the human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: Stiles meets Jackson  
> Next Update: Soon  
> Thanks For Reading!


	3. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets Jackson...

Chapter Three: Runaway

It's been a month since John Stilinski surrendered to an unknown illness and it leaves Stiles wondering when he'll die or what the cause will be.  He doesn't have the strength to get up in the mornings and move on.  He can barely keep breathing as is.  His dull lifeless eyes stare into empty space.  The darkness is all too consuming.  The corners of his mind endless at the possibilities.  Looking for something that is already gone and the spark in his heart disappears.  There's no reason for him to live.  Each drag of breath into his lungs is painful as his eyes sting with unshed tears he refuses to let fall.

The nightmares plague his overactive mind whenever his eyes drift closed.  He can never escape the fate laid out before him.  It's already written and no matter how much he wants to run away from the consuming darkness.  It will always be there.  It leaves him breathless as he sits up in bed gasping for air.  The bed across from him, an old ripped mattress, is now empty.  The bed his father once occupied is long gone cold.  Yet he's still there, waiting for an escape he can't find.

He doesn't eat, can't really afford to buy food.  Living has never been so hard, surviving has always been more difficult.  How he's survived so far is beyond him.  Today the thirst and hunger is worse than ever before.  It's almost painful and he really doesn't want to get out of bed.  However, no matter how much his body protests, he finally rises.  The room is filthier than usual.  Everything looks absolutely disgusting and he can't believe he's lived in such horrifying conditions.

He stands and just stares around the room that was once filled with laughter, memories although most were sad.  It was the only thing he had left that was his and his dad's.  Now he was gone along with the good times.  His heart clenches painfully at the mere thought.  It becomes all too suffocating to stand there for much longer.

Stiles walks out the old building he called home.  The outside was probably worse than the inside if he was being honest.  The grass long dead, the wall plaster cracked and dirtied.  He loves it despite everything that has happened and what led them there in the first place.

With a sluggish pace he walks to the store farther into town than the one he usually goes to.  Before they barely had money, but they had some resources to buy food and their necessities.  He doesn't want to risk it.  The store is somewhat small but it contains everything anyone might need.

He stops when he sees a family of three.  A small boy around five holding on to the hand of his father.  His eyes shining brightly up at the man he sees as a hero.  The petite figure of a women follows behind with a bright smile and he wonders if his mom was ever like her, happy.  He can't help but follow them inside.

"Can I get some ice cweam?" the little boy asks.

"You'll spoil your dinner," the young mother chastise but a smile ever so present.

She reaches for something on one of the shelves she can't reach due to her short stature.

"Papa?"

The father diligently reaches it for her with a blinding smile.

Stiles' throat constricts and heart clenches at the display.  He snatches a seemingly juicy red apple and puts it in his pocket without anyone seeing him.  He continues to walk only momentarily stopping to take off his torn back bag to open the zipper.  His dad always taught him to never steal or do anything bad but he's desperate.  He walks down the aisles and puts food in the bag he carries carelessly.  When he thinks it's enough to last him a few days he closes it and heads to the exit.  He stops again just before walking out.  His head constantly lowered as he takes a deep breath.  He strides out and alarm bells ring in his ears as he passes by the detectors.  A small smile graces his lips once he's outside and he breaks for a run.

They will never know who it was.  All along he was wearing his bright red hoodie up.

The sun beats down on him.  It's too nice and he's glad he makes it home and goes inside to make some much needed food.

The sizzling can be heard along with his growling starving stomach.  He takes a sip of the cool water as he takes the plate of food he just filled.  A sudden knock on the door makes him drop the food.  The plate shatters into a million of pieces as the food scatters everywhere.  He wants to scream in anger and cry in frustration.

On weak, trembling legs he walks to the door and hangs onto the knob.  His heart is pounding as he thinks who it could be.  He doesn't know anyone.  He's an outcast and he doesn't know if his dad ever had acquaintances. Slowly and cautious he opens the door and pulls it back to reveal a stranger wearing shades with a dark suit.

He sets his lips into a thin line and attempts to close the door put is stopped by the man's hand. Stiles is weak and clearly the other man is not.

* * *

Jackson walks toward a rundown house to get his mission over with.  He hates doing the dirty business sometimes, especially when it means an innocent person has to get hurt.  At least that's what Boyd said this boy was.  He doesn't understand why Derek wants the boy gone.  It's a mystery but he doesn't want to die to find out.

His knuckles rap on the dirty door and he tries not to cringe.

Something in the distance shatters and the door is opened carefully and slowly.  Before him stands a small boy.  The lithe body before him is too small to even belong to a sixteen year old, according to his file.  The rancid smell of death and illness immediately fills his sense and he grimaces.  As the boy, Genim Stilinski, makes to close the door Jackson composes himself.  He doesn't put his hand in, the boy is too weak and all it takes is to pull the other side of the door knob.  Genim's eyes widen and he walks backwards, the sudden fear clouding his scent.

Jackson follows him in and closes the door behind him trying not to startle the boy should he slam it shut.  Genim's heartbeat increases and Jackson knows he's about to have a panic attack if he doesn't say anything to soothe the fearful boy.

"Don't be scared.  I won't hurt you," Jackson slowly raises his hands.

"Who are you?  What do you want? What are you doing here?  Why are you in my home?" He questions rapidly.

"Do you always ask so many questions?"

"Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Jackson's eyes grow wide, "What the hell?  Why would I hurt you?"

"Why else would you come in without permission?  God am I going to die?  Before I do, let me just say, I have nothing.  I'm broke," he informs.

Jackson just rolls his eyes, "trust me if I needed money I wouldn't be here."

"Okay...then you're here why?"

"I'm here for-" and he briefly stops to think about what Boyd told him to do.

Genim's eyes trail down until they stop by his belt where he has a holster with a very loaded gun.  The boy slips and ends up on top of the broken shards of glass although he doesn't seem to register the pain.  Blood quickly spreads underneath him and before Jackson realizes, Genim is pale.  The werewolf kneels down and grabs behind the human's head before he passes out and could hurt himself further.

"Shit," he mutters.

He picks up the bleeding boy that weighs practically nothing.  He sees all the freshly made food on the floor along with the spilled blood.  Concerned he carries Genim back to the manor where he'll be sure to get hell from Derek but at least Boyd will have his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: Stiles wakes up in an unknown place...  
> Next Update: Soon  
> Thanks For Reading!


	4. Stupid Humans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up in an unknown place...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay my lovely nugets, I'm planning on a really long Sterek one-shot coming up soon, sometime this week...Hopefully. More details when it's posted or the progress of it. Anyway Enjoy!

Chapter four: Stupid Humans 

Stiles felt a pounding in his skull as he began to stir awake.  There was a pestering light that was cast over his face making his closed eyes twitch and his head to throb painfully.  His body ached and it was the worst feeling ever.  The hunger he had felt was ever present and he was absolutely famished.

It felt as if he was about to die or his stomach would start to slowly digest itself, whichever came first.  Having had enough, he finally gives up on sleep altogether.  That's when he realizes, it almost feels like he's lying on cotton, a fluffy white cloud, not that he knows what that would feel like.

For a moment he wonders if he died and went to heaven.  The simple thought has his sleep filled eyes flutter open.  He stares blankly at the dark grey painted ceiling above him before gathering the strength to sit up.  Slowly, he does so, and looks around at the elegant room he woke up in.  It was as if he was in a room made in a palace, the dark furniture was refined, the four post bed dressed in midnight blue linen, and it was spacious.  Enough space to hold at least fifteen people.  He can't believe it's real, and thus he pinches his arm to test his "I-died-and-went-to-heaven" theory.  It hurt.  A lot.

This also causes his curiosity to spike.  Stiles stands on weak legs and carefully walks toward the blinding light where matching blue curtains gently blow in the slight breeze coming in from the opened window.  He takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes briefly.  It feels like he's on fire, his back and legs sting as well as his arms.  Now that he can really focus, which is hard considering his hyperactivity, he notices gauze wrapped around almost his entire body.  The next thing he realizes is that, for one he's actually clean, like squeaky clean and he's currently wearing clothes that are not torn or old.  The plain white shirt fits loose around his torso and the black sweats are to big and too close to fall down his skinny legs.  His chest feels tight and he can't believe it.  Whoever brought him here cared... they helped him, a stranger no less!

Cautiously, Stiles makes his way out of the incredible room and explores the beautiful house which is more of a mansion if he's honest.

Finally, when it seems like he's been walking for hours he admits defeat.  He's lost.  The labyrinth of halls leads him to more halls and it doesn't help that the doors are mostly identical.  Somehow he manages to end up in a strange dark room.  His small hand searches for a light switch in the darkness.  Aside from him, the place appears to be abandoned and it scares him.

"Yes!" He exclaims when his nimble fingers find the cool nub of the switch.

His eyes widen in utter horror as his knees buckle beneath him.  The room is like a torture chamber and Stiles is very sure that the red flakes on the floor and walls are dried blood.  His heart beats wildly as his mind comes up with the countless possibilities.  Are they going to torture him?  What did he ever do to them?  He doesn't even know them!

He gapes like a fish as his breath comes in short pants.  Soon warm callous hands cover his eyesight and the panic inside flares.  Stiles begins to push away from the strong hold around him and tries to fight back but he's still too weak.

"Breathe," a deep rich voice whispers.

He can hear the man breathe in and out slowly in his ear to guide him.  He mimics the stranger and lets the man pick him up.  He feels warmth and safe pressed against the warm body.  Stiles can't help but bury himself into the man as he continues to breathe deeply.

A pained whimper escapes his lips as he's slightly jostled.

"Shh I got you," the stranger promises.

And he believes him.

He can't see the man, his vision obscured as he holds tightly to the black cotton t-shirt.

"Genim," the man whispers.

He startles at the sound of his name. 

Suddenly he's carefully, ever so gently, placed on the bed he woke up on.  Finally, Stiles looks up at the man only to see blood red eyes staring back at him.

"Wh-What are you?"

The man simply sighs.  One of his hands rests on the boy's forehead and soon darkness overtakes him again.

Derek leans against the door frame as he watches over the sleeping human.  He had left for one day and when he comes back he finds a human in his home.  Jackson was going to pay dearly.

Yet, he can't tear his eyes away from the unconscious boy, in his bed.  As soon as he had entered through the door, the sweetest of smells assaulted his sense.  It took everything in him to not wolf out, especially when he found the boy petrified staring at the basement close to a panic attack.

He looks so...weak.  Fragile, like he's made out of glass.  When he picked Genim up though, time seemed to stop.    The boy was too thin; Derek could practically feel the prominent bones on his small body.

His wolf clawed at him when a whimper escaped the boy and he wondered what the fuck happened to him.  Derek shouldn't care, he knows he shouldn't, but he can't help it.

All his instincts scream to protect, claim and mate.  He won't.  Genim is human and weak.  He's exactly what he looks like, breakable and weak.  He didn't need a pathetic mate like him; he didn't need someone that will only hold him back.

He inhales deeply to calm his outraged wolf.  Derek opens his eyes but he knows and feels that the red hasn't faded.

"Stupid humans," he growls lowly.

His room is practically drenched in the boy's scent.  He takes a few steps toward his bed and peers down at the sleeping lump.  Genim's face is peaceful aside from the occasional pained expressions probably due to the bandages around his arms and legs.  The faint smell of his blood staining through the bandages mixes with the smell of vanilla and blackberries, an odd but delicious mixture.  It leaves Derek wanting more.

"Stupid human."

He walks out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: Scott becomes Stiles' shadow...  
> Next Update: Soon  
> Thanks For Reading!


	5. Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott is Stiles' shadow

Chapter Five: Shadow  
Stiles stirred awake for the second time feeling like he was run over by a train and back. This time, though, his surroundings were different. Familiar.  
He just woke up in his crappy bed in the crappy place he calls home but barely passes as a house. With brows furrowed he starts to think that the amazing comfy bed and the enormous mansion was only a dream. A place made up by his subconscious to escape the horrible reality he calls life.  
When he looks down everything tumbles in his mind. He's wrapped in gauze, freshly bound bandages on his arms and legs. Carefully he extracts his shirt, which isn't even his. Like he suspected, he's snuggly wrapped in more pristine bandages. As he tries to move, his back begins lto protest and sting. What finally gets him up is his rumbling stomach.  
He slowly gets up from the bed and holds on to the walls as he makes his way to the kitchen.  
On the wooden table is a plate filled, absolutely overflowing, with food. His throat constricts as tears well up in his eyes and eventually spill, rolling down his pale cheeks.  
He quickly, as fast as he really could, sits down and only hesitates for a moment before grabbing the food and eating. He doesn't even use the fork neatly placed beside the warm plate of his meal. However, he does take a swig of the cool glass of apple juice.  
After he finishes eating he wonders who the person that did all this is. He has vague memories of a man on his front door and then the really handsome man from his supposed "dream."  
His thoughts are reeling with the possibilities but really, he just wants to know who was kind enough to do this for him. Once he's done eating he takes the dirtied dishes to the sink that is clogged up and rusting. A small smile graces his lips as he looks at the sink, empty. No plates or cups or eating utensils. It looks clean, almost brand new.  
Outside, amber eyes watch through thin pane of a broken window. Those bright orbs follow the figure inside as the human walks around the so called "house."  
A soft sigh escapes his lips. He doesn't understand why _he_ particularly has to be the one babysitting. Scott glares hard at the window secretly throwing daggers at the boy moving about. He really doesn't want to be there.  
Meanwhile Stiles feels a shiver run down his spine. Something is nagging the back of his mind. It's as if someone is watching him. With a small shrug and suddenly feeling extremely exhausted from only walking, he lies back down and falls a sleep.

* * *

Scott becomes Stiles' shadow for a whole week. He sits perched on a tree branch every day and night occasionally reporting back to the pack. The boy does absolutely nothing all day and it's getting boring. This particular morning though, something is wrong.

The boy- Genim- Scott remembers, doesn't get up at the usual time. He doesn't even stir. At first he thinks the boy is simply sleeping in late. God knows Scott sleeps in late every chance he gets. Which also gives him hell from Derek, maybe this is his punishment.  
Either way, Scott decides to leave Genim be. That is until noon rolls around. Scott looks up from picking his nails and sees that Genim is curled in on himself. Annoyed, hungry and displeased Scott jumps from his spot on the tree and lands perfectly on the loose dirt ground below.  
Dusting imaginary filth off, Scott treks toward the door. His hand stops mid way to knock when he heard it. The sounds of retching. His nose wrinkles in distaste and forgetting any proper manners opens the surprisingly unlocked door.  
Everything assaults him at once making him paralyzed for a moment. His eyes land on the shivering mess under the covers in the bed. The disgusting stench of vomit registers in his mind and so does the smell of death. He quickly maneuvers his way to the bed, avoiding the puke. A hesitant hands rests on the boy's burning forehead. His face flushed as his back arches from the bed and he immediately knows.  
With trembling hands he pulls out his phone while hurrying to the kitchen to grab a washcloth dripping cool water. The phone rings once, twice-  
"Hello?"  
"Derek?"  
"What now Scott?" Derek sighs obviously irritated and expecting the beta to complain, again.  
Scott places the cloth on the boy's forehead carefully.  
"The boy you put me in charge of-"  
"Yes, I understand you don't want to be there but Jackson can't do anything right an-"  
"Derek he's dying."  
That seems to shut up the alpha.  
"What?" He croaks.  
"I was following orders but he didn't wake up...I came into his house, death is written all over," Scott explains concerned.  
"Bring him over. Now!"  
The line goes dead.  
Scott looks at his phone but throws it across the room. He immediately returns to the human's side and attempts to pick him up but Genim screams in utter pain.  
"Fuck," Scott mutters.  
Scott gently turns Genim on his stomach and peels away the bed sheet and sweater he was bundled in. His eyes narrow at the open cuts marring the boy's bloodied infected back. As much as he dislikes humans, mostly those ignorant, he can't bear to watch them hurt.  
"Genim? Genim?" He lightly taps a flushed cheek.  
"Hm..don't l-leave me...daddy, mommy..." Stiles whimpers.  
Scott feels his throat constrict, he doesn't want to listen, doesn't want to know the horrors this boy has lived through. Derek had refused to disclose any information. The werewolf tries again as best he can without harming Genim further.  
Deaton is already waiting for them when he arrives with an unconscious Genim.  
Derek, however, is no where to be found.  
On the roof of the manor is the muttering alpha. He's cursing himself for letting the boy go without properly letting him heal. Genim could be on the brink of death and it will be all his fault.  
A beautiful girl with curled blond hair approaches the brooding wolf with a perfectly raised eyebrow. Bright pink lips match her neon shirt with a shoulder off revealing a bit too much skin. Her cleavage pressed together and prominent, especially as she takes a seat and leans toward him.  
"Why so down?" She asks.  
"I'm the cause for his pain," Derek mumbles softly but she hears it loud and clear.  
"I don't understand," she replies.  
"Genim..."  
"You've killed a man cold blooded. You've seen people's limbs be cut, you've commissioned it. And suddenly a _human boy_ is getting to you?" She sneers.  
She loathes humans, especially after almost dying and not one person had the decency to assist her or even call for help. She nearly died and no one would have missed her. Ever since, her hate for humans has grown. The Hale pack is known for their cold murders and hatred for the world that has caused them nothing but grief.  
"Erica...they were bad men. I will never regret killing them, torturing them, tasting their blood on my tongue but you have to understand they were evil. Genim Stilinski is anything but. He's...innocent and alone in the world-"  
"Then let him die! Let him join his pathetic family! No one cared when _I was dying!_ " She glares fiercely.  
_"I_ cared," Derek whispers.  
Erica's eyes widen in shock before she shakes her head in disbelief.  
"Nothing will change my mind on them...just remember, this is not your fault."  
With that she stands and struts away, her hips swaying side to side. Derek places his head in his hands and scrubs at his face tiredly. Erica's right. A stupid mistake that Jackson committed doesn't make him responsible but he's always vowed never to harm the innocent. This just happened in the wrong place at the wrong time.  
In the distance Derek can hear Deaton tell Scott that it was a good thing he became the human's shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: None  
> Next Update: Soon  
> Thanks For Reading!


	6. Fragments

Chapter Six: Fragments

Derek stops in the doorway to observe the doctor as he examines the boy on the big bed.  His face is pale, paler than when Derek first saw him, and scrunched up in obvious pain.  He’s curled into a ball trying to be as small as possible while Deaton inspects his infected wounds.

Sensing someone watching him, Deaton looks up calmly and he motions for the alpha to approach.  He does so hesitantly.

“How is he?” Derek asks.

In reality he’s asking, ‘is he dying?’

“Alpha Hale…I would suggest he remain here, in the loft.  Aside from it being only fair considering your beta caused this on your order-“

“Accidently,” Derek interrupts.

“Accidently as it may be, I would rather the boy stay here to get better medical attention.  He has an extremely high fever and his cuts became infected which only leads me to believe he does not live in sanitary conditions,” Deaton continues.

Derek’s gaze returns to the shivering boy causing him to pull the comforter to cover the lithe body.

“Alpha Hale,” Deaton calls.

“Will he be alright?  Can you assure that he’s better here?” Derek questions although Deaton knows what he really means.

“I believe he will recover completely and under your protection, he’ll be safe until he can return home,” Deaton replies honestly.

“Alright, thank you,” Derek nods.

Deaton leaves the alpha alone in the guest room where the boy will live for the time being.  Derek lets out a grateful breath as the door closes behind the family doctor.  He turns to face the boy only to be met with half lidded hazy honey eyes staring at him tiredly.  Derek kneels near the bedside facing the weak boy.

“How do you feel?” He asks softly.

Stiles is surprised that the big well-muscled man can muster such a gentle tone.  Truthfully though, everything hurts and he’s exhausted to really give a snarky retort.  His body feels disgusting and sore.  Derek notices the discomfort the boy feels and decides to help him sit.  He carefully strips the rest of the unresponsive boy’s clothes and ignores the necklace around his neck.  He drapes a thin white bed sheet and carries him to the ensuite bathroom in the master bedroom.  The water turns on and Derek begins to pour lavender oil along with a bubble mixture so Genim can take a relaxing bubble bath.

He then strips his jeans but leaves his t-shirt and boxers on.  He picks the boy up again and takes away the bedsheet to assess the boy’s body.  Slowly, with the boy to his front, he slips into the warm bath.  Derek can immediately feel the boy’s tense muscles start to relax as the water envelops them.

If Stiles wasn’t in heaven, he would have probably been freaking out and screaming rape.  Yet soft hands run over his body to loosen the grime and it felt amazing.  Fingers thread through his long dirty hair.  Derek applied shampoo to the rumpled hair and grabbed a washcloth which he then poured some of his body wash on.  Mindful of the boy’s torn back, Derek lathers up the body with the wash cloth noticing that he can feel the human’s ribs, with a growl he concludes that Genim is malnourished.  Stiles leans his head back and closes his eyes trusting the stranger to take care of him.  Warm water cascades over his body covered in suds.

Derek pulls the plug on the drain away and watches as the bubbly water swirls down.  He gets clean water to repeat the process of cleaning Genim as carefully as possible.  He can hear the boy’s heart begin to even as he slips into unconsciousness.  Derek feels bad for jostling the boy but they need to get out before they both get sick.

 Genim feels way too light as he curls into Derek’s body.  Despite having been covered with a towel, Stiles felt extremely cold and the only heat source was the man.

Derek places Genim on the bed and then proceeds to take all of his soaked clothes to change into something dry and warm.  He dresses in black sweats with a gray tee and takes out an old pair of smaller sweats and a shirt for Genim.

“Are you hungry?” He asks the boy gruffly, as if it’s a chore to take care of him.

Stiles can barely manage a nod.

“What do you want to eat?” And this is the most Derek has ever spoken to anyone, especially a human.  Not that he has anything against the humans in his pack.

Those dull yet bright eyes open again and he offers a small shrug, “I dunno.”

And really, is that how Stiles sounds like?  Because he sounds absolutely terrible.

He tries to sit up as Derek helps him change but his body is uncooperative.

“Easy,” Derek whispers.

“I feel awful,” Stiles rasps out.

Derek presses a hand to his burning throbbing forehead and immediately draws the pain away.  Stiles’ eyes are closed again so he can’t see the black veins on the man’s arms.

“What do you want to eat?” Derek repeats.

Again Stiles shrugs.

“How don’t you know?”

“W-We…hardly ever ate and when we did, it was usually bread, rice or an apple…it was never enough though and daddy…” Stiles’ throat clogs up but he refuses to cry in front of a stranger.

Derek can see though.  He can see the emotional pain the boy is going through although he doesn’t know what to do.  Instead he stands and offers his hand to the boy.

“Derek,” he mumbles.

“Stiles,” Stiles responds back.

“Stiles? I thought your name was Genim,” Derek furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“Only dad called me…that…”

Understanding dawns on Derek.

“Can you walk?”

Stiles slides from the bed and attempts to stand but almost falls down.  Derek manages to catch him and carries him downstairs where he sets Stiles on the counter of the kitchen.  The boy looks as the stranger moves around the kitchen and mixes ingredients together.  Stiles doesn’t even notice when his eyes start to droop.

“Stiles,” Derek calls softly.

“Hm?”

“Food’s done,” Derek says.

Stiles yawns and rubs his eyes from sleep.  The big clothes and the childish gesture makes him look like an adorable small child.  Derek can’t help but stare.

He snaps to attention and takes Stiles to the table where he sets a plate of chocolate chip pancakes topped with whip cream and a diced strawberry shaped into a flower along with apple juice.

“Whoa!” Stiles exclaims in awe.

Derek can’t hide a small chuckle at the sight.

Stiles grabs the fork offered by the werewolf and he pokes at the stacks of deliciousness.

“What is it?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

It’s a miracle Derek doesn’t get whip lash as he does a double take at the boy sitting at the table questioning the food.

“Pancakes…How do you not know?” Derek asks in shock.

“Um…I’m poor?”  Stiles answers befuddled.

Derek mentally kicks himself because, yes Stiles lives in poverty, which is part of the reason he’s “living” with him right now.  In his personal loft, where no one really seems to bother him.

“Sorry just…eat okay?”

Stiles nods eagerly and dives in.  He moans in pleasure as the sweetness explodes in his mouth.  Derek can’t help but stare…again.

“This is delicious!  Compliments to the chef,” Stiles smiles cheekily.

A light pink tint crosses Derek’s cheeks but he lets it slide.  When they finish everything turns downhill.  Stiles starts feeling bad again and the fever is back full force.  Derek leads him to his bedroom where he crawls into the soft bed and turns into a tightly curled ball.

Derek gets in behind the boy who wastes no time to bury himself in Derek’s warmth.  Derek’s arms tighten around the thin body as he takes away the pain leaving a dull ache of protesting muscles.

Derek grabs his phone and presses his speed dial to his best and only hacker, Danny.

“You know what to do.”

He wants to pick up the broken fragments of the boy in his arms.  Just to ease the pain if only a little.

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up to an empty bed and cold bedsheets beside him.  At the end of the very comfortable bed is a wooden box with a note attached to it.  He goes to look at it and the note only has one thing.  His name.

Stiles stares at the wooden box with intricate designs carved into it and an unrecognizable crest on top.  His hand goes to his chest, he can feel the familiar outline of the key.  A heavy weight settles on his heart as he looks at the box over.  It feels like he’s seen that symbol before.

A rusted lock, aged with the many years spent in the vault, comes undone with the careful turn of the equally old key given to him by the man he loved before he passed. He never thought he would be alone in the world, never even thought of the possibility of losing his only remaining parent. For the second time in a long while, he cries in despair as he pulls out the contents of the box.

He looks at all the pictures of his mom and dad together.  Their wedding.  When she was pregnant.  When he was a baby.  When he was three.  When his dad taught him how to ride a bike.  Before his mom got sick.

Through the pictures a letter falls out.  With trembling hands he takes it and reads:

_My little treasure,_

_Maybe it’s too late to tell you how much I love you.  Maybe I should’ve been a better father but whatever happens don't ever blame yourself for anything.  You were, are, and always will be strong._

_I’m sorry I’m not there beside you.  I’m sorry I didn’t try harder or offered you a better life.  I’m sorry you had to lose me and your mother.  I’m sorry for everything._

_If you’re reading this than it must be your birthday, the most happiest day of our lives.  Happy birthday and I hope you’re living a better future than what I could’ve offered.  The Hales will be looking for you.  Don’t panic, they’re there to protect you.  To give you a home.  Theo and I were long time friends and as a last request I asked for him to take care of you.  So you can have a real family._

_I’m sure you'll be loved and hopefully one day find your one and only love too.  Just don’t ever forget your mom and me.  We loved you until the end.  When it rains, thunders, and when the world is scary, we’ll always watch over you.  Protect you.  We loved you until our dying breath._

_Fight for what’s right and don’t bow to anyone who doesn’t deserve it.  Don’t run away from destiny.  It was just meant to be._

_Love with all my heart,_

_Dad._

Tears slips from tightly closed eyes as he replays the letter’s contents in his head.  His heart clenches in pain and it feels like he can’t breathe.  He starts hyperventilating and panicking.  Why is this happening?  Who would do this is?  Is this some sick joke?

“Derek,” he whispers brokenly.

Derek bursts through the door to see Stile having a panic attack.  The wooden box with the familiar symbol of his family’s crest on clear display lies open.  He hurries to Stiles’ side and takes the papers and pictures away.

“Deep breaths,” he coaches.

Stiles mimics his breathing and when he’s calm he breaks down all over again.  Derek holds him close and lets him cry his heart out.

“I’m sorry Stiles…it’ll be okay,” Derek assures.

“Why?  Why did they take them away?  Why him?”  Stiles asks as he hits Derek with closed fists.

Derek takes the brunt of the boy’s frustration until he tires himself out.  He lays the boy down and at the door he sees Danny standing there with a sorrowful expression having witnessed what happened.

“Arrange a pack meeting with my parents please.  A week from now.” Derek orders.

Danny nods and wordlessly closes the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: None  
> Next Update: Soon  
> Thanks For Reading! Hope you enjoyed!


	7. Code of Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late but I had writers block. Already? Too early I know right- anyway moving on, enjoy!

Chapter Seven: Code of Thieves

Derek is silent as he glares at the table in front of him. He's trying hard not to bite out just how angry he is. Boyd is beside him with the same passive face as ever while Peter leans back in his chair, hands clasped tightly together. Theo Hale looks at his son with an almost guilty expression.  
"Why?" Is all Derek can muster without raising his voice.  
"Why what Derek?" Talia Hale asks calmly.  
"I need to understand why _we_ are the ones that have to kidnap the boy from his home? Why we have to take him in," Derek ground out.  
"I made a promise-" Theo begins.  
"When you were alpha father but I continued... I'm alpha now and you can't expect me... it's absurd," he huffs.  
"My dear nephew," Peter sighs.  
"Dear uncle," Derek glares, "I will not keep him here longer than he must. I will not take him as my mate. I will not break the code of thieves."  
"You already broke the first one: Forsake his relatives--mother, father, brothers, sisters... which clearly you haven't and will not do," Peter muses.  
"We're the only ones who can, did, and will," Derek agrees with narrowed eyes.  
"Number two: Do not have a family of his own -- no wife, no children; this does not however, preclude him from having a lover," Peter continues listlessly.  
"I will not break more than I have to," Derek growls.  
"Derek," Theo breathes.  
"No father. I will not mate."  
"I believe, Alpha, that maybe you should," Boyd counters.  
Derek stares incredulously at his second.  
"Why would I need a mate?" Derek questions aggravated.  
"An anchor," Talia offers.  
"My pack," Derek argues.  
"Children," Peter suggests.  
"Valerie and Laura."  
"Love," and that's Theo again.  
"Excuse me?"  
"Ever since Katherine Argent you have shut down. It was not your fault and you should allow yourself to find what it means to love and be loved," Theo replies.  
"My point why I shouldn't. Who's to say I won't end up worse than before?"  
"Derek," Boyd begins.  
Derek slams his hands down on the table, red bleeding through his eyes.  
"I will not take a human for a mate when I have to take him away from poverty he clearly enjoys, if what Jackson reported is true. I will not take Genim as my mate."  
Stiles heart beats wildly. He had woken up and had gone in search of the man who had taken care of him for the past week. After the first night in which Derek had comforted the boy, he had refused to spend another night in the same bed. In the same room.  
"I hate humans."  
He looks at the box in his hands, he had refused to part with, before it slipped from his hands. It fell with a loud clatter as papers scattered around him. He stood in the room paralyzed by the admission. Derek slowly had turned to face the boy behind him. Stiles' eyes widened as his breath caught and heart stopped in fear. Crimson eyes stared back at him. Derek wasn't human. And he had planned to take him away from home. He was the man that had haunted his dreams after reading his dad's letter. Derek was the one Stiles wanted to avoid for fear of being kidnapped from the only place he knew as home. He had been in the lion's den the entire time. And Derek knew.  
His legs started working on their own accord and soon he was running for the only exit away from the place that was his temporary haven. Stiles didn't even bother to take the elevator- not that he knew how the apparatus worked. He had simply followed the signs that indicated the stairs as he ran for his life.  
Somehow he managed to get outside the loft. His chest hurt and body ached. He was scared. Derek wasn't human, in fact...  
_"I hate humans."_  
_"I hate humans."_  
_"I hate humans."_  
It echoed in his head, replaying like a broken record.  
He remembered snippets of the conversation before his mind decided to go blank in overload. He slowed to a jog then took a right turn and plastered himself to the side of a brick wall. He was disgustingly sweaty, face flushed from exertion. He pressed a shaky hands to his chest as he closes his eyes tightly. Red eyes filtering through his foggy mind staring right back at him.  
He slowly slid down the wall and buried his head in his knees brought to his heaving chest. He could feel the onset of a panic attack. After his mother's death, Stiles had gotten a panic attack and from then, they became frequently. Now they're back full force.  
He lifts his head and looks around. Everything's a blur of nothing, empty. He's never felt more alone than now.  
A tear slides down his cheek and he allows himself to cry. He feels hollow. Exhausted, he falls asleep on the cold concrete.  
Derek finds Stiles curled near a dumpster. Tears glistening on his flushed cheeks. With a heavy sigh Derek kneels to pick up the boy, careful of the pebbles digging into soft flesh. Stiles whimpers and chokes as he clutches to Derek's shirt.  
"Hush," the alpha soothes.  
When he kicks the door to his loft open, it's once again empty.  
Derek takes a deep breath at the mingled scents of Stiles and him. He looks down at the sleeping boy as he sets him on the couch and covers him with a thin blanket. His expression is pained when he turns to face Boyd at the entrance.  
"I'll support him but he can't stay," Derek speaks.  
"People will know, they'll get suspicious and start thinking why the Hales have taken interest in a human that can't offer them anything. They'll hurt him and without him here with you- you can't protect him. He's susceptible to danger and being a target. He'll die," Boyd reminds.  
Derek's glare is back but turned toward the floor as if it personally offended him.  
"I won't mate him," he states firmly.  
"I don't expect you to. I, however, expect you to do what's right as alpha. He needs you even if he's stubborn and runs away again," Boyd replies understandingly.  
Derek turns to look at the tightly curled lump on the couch.  
"In a month gather his transcripts and ask Danny to search for a private tutor. He only managed to enter fifth grade before he didn't have the resources necessary to even attend public school. I need to make sure he can catch up to get into high school," Derek mutters annoyed.  
"We'll make sure he'll be fine when he's ready," Boyd assures.  
"Also inform Danny to forge the last six years of St-Genim's school records," he adds.  
"Understood."  
Just as fast as Boyd had arrived, he's gone.  
With a heavy sigh Derek leaves to his office to take care of business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: None  
> Next Update: Soon  
> Thanks For Reading!


	8. It's Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, sorry I'm late.

Chapter Eight: It's Okay

Stiles stares at Derek incredulously as the older male talks on the phone.  Derek has a scowl on his face and when the call ends he throws his phone across the room.  Stiles flinches as the phone skids through the bed and lands with a thud on the floor.  The older doesn't seem to care for materialistic objects.

"We're going out, get ready," Derek states.

"I uhm d-don't have clothes," Stiles reminds.

Derek pauses at the door to turn around and look at him.

"That's where we're going, your pair of ripped shoes are in the closet.  I'll be in the living room."

Stiles whispers a soft thank you but Derek is already gone.  Derek, however, heard him.  Stiles looks toward the closet before getting up from the bed and rummages inside.  He finds his old disgusting shoes neatly placed next to Derek's many pairs.  Something in Stiles chest constricts painfully when he sees a pair of heels, clearly not Derek's.

Biting his lip nervously, he slowly walks around the loft to find Derek.  He stops at the bottom of the stairs when he catches a glimpse of Derek sitting on a leather black couch- matching his jacket- with his legs crossed.

"Hi," Stiles waves awkwardly.

Derek looks at him for a moment only to stand up and grab the keys to his camaro.  Stiles follows him out the door and to the car but stops in front.

Derek looks up from his side of the car and internally questions whether his mind is functioning.  With a sigh he walks around the front and opens the door for the human.  Unspoken words about what happened the day before hang in the air.  Stiles wants to knows.  He wants to ask but the fear grips at him whenever he entertains the thought.

Derek raises his eyebrows expectantly and god they're so expressive.  Stiles ducks in and Derek closes the door when he's settled.  He walks to the driver's side and slides in before turning the car on.

"Have you never been in a car before?" Derek asks when he picks up the frantic heart beat as he pulls out of the parking lot.

"Never," Stiles admits.

Derek turns to face him and Stiles closes his eyes.

"Not that I can remember," he specifies.

It seems Derek understands as he turns back to the road.  From then on he drives more careful, following the speed limit unlike moments before.

They step out of the car when it comes to a stop, parked.  Derek takes the lead like always.  They look around and occasionally Stiles contributes but Derek is the one really picking items.  Something red catches his eye and he looks at the red hoodie hanging by a hook.  He touches the soft material.  It looks almost identical to the one he had, the one he left back home and has no chance of getting again.

Derek watches him from afar.  Inside he finds irony at the fact that the human is interested in a red hoodie.  Stiles, however, seems reluctant and takes away his hand like he was burned.

Derek knows why.  He stands in front of the clothing and traces with callous hands the pattern Stiles left on the soft fabric.  He can't resist and takes it against his better judgement.

When they arrive at the checkout Stiles notices the flaring red.  A small smile crosses his lips and for the first time, maybe the second, he thinks it's going to be okay.  Despite the secrets.  Despite the fear.  Despite everything.

"Thank you," he whispers.

Derek merely nods.

* * *

 

"Scott is coming over," Derek says sometime later.

They were eating in silence broken by the sudden information.  Slowly, Stiles puts down the fork he was just about to raise toward his lips and looks at the table, suddenly feeling his appetite dissolve.  He lifts his gaze to meet Derek’s who quickly returns to eating.

“Who’s Scott?” He asks confused.

“Scott is… the boy who brought you here,” Derek answers.

“The one who entered my home without consent?”

“No, that’s Jackson,” Derek corrects.

“Okay, then why is Scott, whoever he is, coming over?”

“Because you’re going to go to high school with them and Scott will help you adapt,” Derek replies.

“I don’t even know how to divide and you expect me to go to high school?  You’re insane,” Stiles mumbles.

Derek finally looks at the boy properly.  The light from outside the window makes him glow.  His cheeks are a pink tint and his sweet scent changes into embarrassment and hurt.

Derek’s chair scrapes across the tiled floor and Stiles feels like he deserves to be alone– to be abandoned by Derek– after becoming a burden to a man he doesn’t even know.  God he’s so stupid.  The day before he run away in fear of the man who saved him, cared for him, and helped him heal.  Today he’s making himself look like a complete idiot with no education or worth.  Derek will probably kick him out.

Stiles feels tears burn in the back of his eyes, he’s never wanted this.  He never meant to burden a person who’s helped him.  He gasps and his eyes widen when his chair is pulled back with ease.  Derek crouches in front of him with shinning red eyes.

“You’re not afraid,” he says, growls, amused.

Stiles doesn’t know how to respond.

“Not of what I am,” Derek clarifies.

The boy bites his lip hard enough to draw blood.  A clawed hand comes to caress his cheek and gently nudges his lips away from his teeth.  A single finger swipes away a droplet of blood and smears it down his chin.

“It isn’t your fault.  You couldn’t have gotten the education you required and that’s okay.  You’re my responsibility now and I promise to take care of you.  I will teach you and help you in whatever you need but please, trust me.  There are people out there that once they figure out you’re with us, they’ll come after you.  I’m trying my best to understand where you came from and I’m trying hard to help you in any way I can,” he whispers.

“I want to go home,” Stiles admits, feeling small and vulnerable.

“Home where?  There will be no one waiting for you any more, you’ll be alone and I can’t let you relapse.  If it wasn’t for Scott you would’ve been dead-“

“Maybe I should’ve died,” Stiles sniffles.

A knock at the door startles Stiles, and Derek lets out a sigh moving to open it before Scott breaks it, again.

“Hey,” Scott smiles.

“Scott,” Derek acknowledges already back to normal.

Scott stops when he sees Stiles but breaks into a bigger smile.

“Hey there, you finally better?” Scott asks.

“Y-Yeah,” Stiles stutters.

“As if you care, after I assigned you all you did was whine and complain about babysitting a human,” Derek scoffs.

“That was before I found out why you wanted me to babysit him,” Scott replies with a roll of his eyes.

Turning back to Stiles he sticks out his hand.

“I’m Scott and you must be Genim,” he says warmly.

Stiles takes the offered hand hesitantly but replies nonetheless, “Stiles, actually.”

“Stiles Stilinski?” Scott muses.

“It’s a nickname, no one can pronounce my real name…only Derek has aside from my…parents…”

“Oh… sorry I mean you know with the whole parents and kidnapped and almost dying and not pronouncing your name right an-“

“I know, thank you,” Stiles returns the smile weakly.

“Sorry,” Scott mutters again while scratching the back of his head.

“It’s okay,” Stiles reassures.

“Well…I brought you something,” Scott shrugs.

He pulls out the bag from behind his back as Stiles stands.  He offers the bag and Stiles takes it only to almost drop it.  Almost being the understatement– if it weren’t for Scott’s reflexes.

“That’s heavy,” Stiles huffs.

“Sorry…again,” Scott responds embarrassed himself.

“I-It’s okay, maybe it’s just because I’m still recovering from the whole parents and hurt physically atop of emotionally and kidnapped and almost dying thing,“ Stiles smirks.

Scott punches him in the arm, lightly.

“So… what is it?” Stiles asks curiously.

“Pray tell,” Derek adds mildly interested.

“It’s a gaming system.  God knows Derek barely uses his TV and you can never go wrong with video games ever,” Scott grins.

“What are…video games?”

Scott’s eyes grow impossibly wide in shock.

“Please tell me you’re joking, Derek please tell me he’s joking,” Scott begs.

Scott turns to face Derek but he’s already gone.

“Okay fine!” Scott shouts, “you, come with me.  I will show you a world you will forever love.”

Stiles follows the teen into the living room where he sits on the couch as Scott sets up the system.  Once done he hands a controller to Stiles and the game begins.

“At least tell me you know what a TV is,” Scott pleas on their second round.

“I know, I used to watch cartoons with my dad before…before everything,” Stiles whispers.

Scott slings his arm over Stiles’ thin shoulders and hugs him.

“It’s okay,” Scott promises.

Stiles shakes his head, “it will never be okay.”

Derek places the documents he had been reading for over an hour.  He stares at the closed door of his study and pinches the bridge of his nose as his glasses slide off.  The only reassurance that everything is okay– is the sound of the beating hearts belonging to the two teens on the other side of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: None  
> Update: Soon- maybe  
> Thanks For Reading!!!


	9. Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles feels like he doesn't belong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, enjoy!

Chapter Nine: Belong

The locker closes and the lock clicks indicating its firmly shut from prying eyes. Stiles' heart is hammering in his chest uncontrollably like it has been all day. Scott is beside him looking concerned.

"Let's go," Stiles suggests with a smile although it falters just a bit.

Scott nods and leads the younger boy toward the boy's locker room. Coach Finstock is yelling at the lacrosse team, again. Nothing new really.  Scott takes off his shirt and quickly changes to his uniform before grabbing his equipment.

"That's Jackson," he points out, voice low.

Stiles eyes travel to the well built teenager, bright blue eyes lock with his amber. He adverts his gaze quickly as he realizes who Jackson really is. He's the person who came to his home and intruded. The person who unintentionally hurt him which led to his stay with no other than Derek.

"He's the captain," Scott adds as an afterthought.

Stiles nods although had no reason to.

"Stay away from him," he continues.

"Why?" Stiles can't help but ask with a tilt of his head.

 "In school he'll beat the crap out of you. With us, outside, when no one is around he barely tolerates us but it's a way to keep appearance," Scott explains.

"Keep appearance?" Stiles repeats softly.

 A loud bang from the crowd gathered startles him. Scott manages to draw his attention from the maniac coach.

 "You know who we are, right?"

 Stiles nods numbly. He knows and there's not a second when he's not terrified.

 Three days ago Derek explained full well who they are. The Hales. A most notorious family known for the power they hold underground. Derek just happened to be the boss seeing as his parents are "retired." Stiles nearly had a panic attack because he knew Derek was supposed to take him away from everything he's ever known. Especially after accidentally eavesdropping. Yet, nothing had prepared him for the black ink tattooed on the man's toned back between his shoulder blades. The triple swirls, a triskelion, similar to the crest on the wooden box his father left behind.

It had left him suffocating, struggling for air, until Derek helped him breathe again. It was as if he were drowning, the feeling all too familiar.  
After their free period spent in practice, Stiles just watching, the bell rings signaling the end.  
Stiles and Scott enter the cafeteria filled with people chatting nonchalantly. Stiles feels out of place almost immediately, like he doesn't belong. It's his first day in high school and thanks to Derek, he managed to pass the requirements, but he just wishes he could be back home. Now he wonders when the loft became his home.

Deep breaths, he reminds himself.

 They set their trays down on an empty table. Stiles doesn't eat, he simply picks at the food not really feeling hungry.

 "That's Boyd," Scott nods toward the empty table aside from a well muscled man sitting, assessing his surroundings.

 "He's Derek's second, and that is Lydia Martin, Jackson's girlfriend."

 A short strawberry blond girl clings to the athlete's bicep.

 "Danny, our hacker."

 A tanned boy is on Jackson's other side walking coolly.

 "And Erica."

 She's a blond with prominent cheek bones and bright red lips. She takes a bite of her apple as she stares at them, specifically at him.

 Stiles gulps and looks down at the disgusting school lunch offered.

 "What exactly is Derek?" Stiles asks.

 Despite living with Derek for a little more than a month now, he still doesn't know what the man is. What they are. He does know, however, that Derek left one night and didn't come home until late the next day but the reason is still unknown.

 "I'm sorry but only Derek can tell you," he apologizes.

Stiles offers an understanding smile until his eyes lock with a fragile looking boy on the other side of the cafeteria. The boy raises his gaze and looks at Stiles perplexed, as if it's the first time someone has really noticed him. Stiles' heart clenches at the sight of haunted eyes, a darkening bruise on his left cheek and a split lip. The sad look reminds him of the tears he shed when his dad had shook his head outside the hospital door. The same eyes of pain and the feeling of being lost.

Stiles closes his eyes tightly when he's assaulted with the memories of losing his mom. The day they found out she was dying from an incurable disease, the way she had held him tightly letting the tears stain his shirt. It was the emptiness in his heart that caused a drift between his father and himself, it was what made his eyes void like the ones staring back at him.

Scott grasps his shoulder but Stiles ignores him. They've become best friends over the past few weeks; playing video games, talking at night, and going out. However, the feeling of being out of place, almost like dread, like when he first entered the double doors of the cafeteria has nothing to do with the fact that Scott's part of a Russian Mafia. No, he feels like he doesn't belong because he's never had friends. He barley had any family. Correction, he has no family.

When he opens his eyes again, the boy is gone. Scott doesn't mention it.

After lunch Scott and Stiles go on their separate ways to class. Scott had promised to meet Stiles in front of his locker but he never showed. Stiles' gaze wanders around the solitary hallway waiting for someone to guide him back home. All the students were already gone, he was the only one left waiting like an idiot.

Erica looks at the lone figure sitting against the lockers with his head placed on his arms which wrap around his knees. With a mischievous gleam in her eyes she gives a curt nod.

Two buff lacrosse players approach the boy with a smirk curling on their lips. One of them nudges the boy's foot with his own. Stiles raises his head only to have a fist collide with his cheek. He gasps at the sudden pain and scrambles away from the bullies.

They kick, spit, and punch him until he's wheezing on the cold floor close to unconsciousness. As the two turn their backs to leave, Stiles sees Erica with a disgustingly sweet smile. She turns to walk away, her hair falling neatly against her back. Stiles just stares at the vacant space, a clock on the wall ticking by. Tick-tock, seconds bleeding to minutes.

When he gets the strength to rise, he does so with the support of the lockers. Everything aches and hurt, almost like needles piercing his skin with every step he takes. His breathing is laboured and his ribs are completely bruised. As he finally takes the first few steps his vision swims, the edges grow blurry dark. Somehow he manages to pick up his discarded bag that had been thrown feet away from his beaten body.

With a limp and a whimper on every step he takes, Stiles walks out the building. His first day in school and any other day that follows is now his worst nightmare.

Stiles looks toward the sky in question. The only response is the darkening of it with heavy gray clouds. A raindrop lands on his flushed cheek that he reaches to wipe away with a trembling cold hand. He hangs his his head low and walks with no aim. He feels a tear roll down his already moist cheek and he wipes at furiously but the onslaught of tears is overwhelming and no matter how much he tries they just keep on coming. 

He decides that his best option is to go back to where he belongs. Stiles takes a short cut in an empty disgusting alleyway. He's halfway through when a choked whimper catches him off guard. He inches closer to the dumpster where the sound came from. As he rounds the corner a gasp escapes him. The boy from the cafeteria is curled up on his side. Tears, blood, and sweat cover his body. His clothes are torn and glass sticks out from his inflamed skin. Stiles drops his school bag and falls on his knees. He cradles the boy's head on his lap and taps his cheeks so brilliant eyes flutter open.

"Please don't hurt me," he whimpers.

"Whoa kiddo slow your roll, I am incapable of hurting a fly," Stiles assures somehow trying to alleviate the grave situation.

"Wh-who are y-you?" He croaks.

"Stiles, you?"

"I-Isaac please I d-don't.. he's going to come a-again and NO!" Isaac thrashes.

Stiles tries desperately to hold him down so he doesn't hurt himself further.

"Who Isaac? Who's going to come? Is it the person that hurt you?"

Wide eyes stare at Stiles but not really at him, more of...behind him.

With a hopeful heart that it might be Derek, that maybe he had found him, Stiles looks behind but he regrets it the moment he sees an unknown man. He hits Stiles across the head with the back of a gun. His vision swims black and he lands next to Isaac with a heavy thud.

* * *

Derek narrows his eyes at the three betas not catching Stiles' familiar scent.

In a low but menacing voice he growls, "where is Stiles?"

Scott looks around in the crowd with big brown eyes searching for his friend.

"I thought he heard coach about the game, I told him I'd meet him by his locker but you know coach, I thought maybe he would...I don't know," Scott whispers under his breath but Derek hears perfectly.

He makes his way out of the stands and turns his back on the game. His family question his departure and Erica stands with a smug smirk. One less human to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Spoiler: None  
> Next Update: Soon  
> Thanks For Reading!


	10. Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finds Stiles but at a cost.

Chapter Ten: Tempest

Derek follows Stiles' disappearing scent inside of the school building into an empty hallway. He trails it just outside the locker numbered 2639 by the entrance. His eyes flick up to see the heavy dark clouds threatening to erase Stiles' remaining smell from a window at the end of the hall. However, he stops in his tracks when his eyes fall on the tiled floor by the locker. Drops of scarlet blood splatters the surrounding area.

Derek can feel rage coarse through his veins and it takes all his strength to remain human. The smell of blood, Stiles' specifically, is pungent in the air and it raises the hair on the back of his neck. A growl manages to escape and he can't figure out an explanation. Stiles is really nothing, technically he's the guardian and Stiles simply a burden. He swipes at the blood with two fingers and allows his eyes to glow red, reflecting what's on his hand.

Before the tempest can arrive and wash Stiles' scent away, Derek hurries out and breaths deeply. He catches the faintest trace of Stiles in the air and follows it. His bloodied hand now clutched tightly into a fist. Boyd joins him in moments. He's covered in sweat and is breathless when he appears at the alpha's side.

"Tell the others," Derek orders when they round the corner to an alley.

The first few heavy raindrops begin to pour unlike earlier that day when it was drizzling.  
Boyd moves swiftly as he pulls out his phone and dials Erica. He can hear the exasperation in her voice when he mentions Stiles. Derek, can hear her irritation too. He knows it was her, knows that she ordered two goons to hurt Stiles, her scent was everywhere in the scene.

He can only imagine what she ordered them to do. One thing is for sure, she isn't behind the boy's kidnapping.

Derek's eyes scan the alleyway and his eyes flash golden when he sees a boy around Stiles' age on the concrete floor with bruises, cuts, and blood.

Before he does something irrational, Boyd takes the lead and approaches the boy cautiously.

He taps his cheek and notices that he's clearly delirious. Boyd faces Derek and when a nod is offered, he drains the kid's pain. A soft sigh and a groan indicates that he's waking up.

"Hey there," Boyd says gently.

"Stiles?" He croaks.

"No, but has he been here?"

He nods weakly.

"Where is he?" Derek demands impatiently.

"I-I don't know, a g-guy with a m-mask came and- and he had a gun," he coughs.

"Did he hurt you too?"

"N-No," he answers.

It's Derek that questions him next, "Who?"

Tears escape the boy's tightly closed eyes and Derek leans down to take his hand and drain a bit more of his pain.

"D-Dad," he whimpers.

Derek feels something twist his insides at the response. This boy is abused at home, the place that's supposed to be his haven.

"Take him back to my loft and dial Deaton," Derek says stern.

Boyd takes the boy in his arms and hurries to the loft, his phone slotted between his shoulder and ear.

Derek takes a deep breath and follows the distinguishable smell although he has no need. Stiles' blood leaves a trail behind.  
He takes out his phone and calls Scott.

"Alpha?"

"The game?"

"Finished, Jackson and I are on our way," he replies.

"I sent Jackson the address, I know where they are," Derek says.

"Okay," Scott agrees and Derek can hear the guilt.

"We need to get him back," Derek says mindlessly, "we will get him back."

"Okay," Scott repeats more decisive.

The call ends and Derek walks around the property. This is his first time here but Derek knows it's Stiles' old home. Despite it being almost two months since he moved in with Derek, his scent is permeated in the small property.

He can hear Stiles' ragged breathing and his frantic heartbeat. It sounds close to a panic attack. He strains to hear more and is glad to know there's no other movement or presence aside from Stiles.

Derek cautiously pushes the rotted door open and sees the boy on the bed. The older male makes to rush toward him on the bed.  
However, a pained sob of his name on Stiles chapped lips stop him.

"Stiles," he calls softly.

Stiles looks at him pleadingly while shaking his head.

 _They're still here_ , he mouths.

Derek's hackles rise and he's on edge. He hears it before it's fired. It's a soft, almost methodical, click. With impossibly fast reflexes, Derek dodges the first bullet but he's not so lucky the second time around.

The silver bullet lands on his left shoulder and it causes him to fall on a knee. He grasps his profoundly bleeding wound in a desperate attempt to staunch the blood flow.

Stiles gets off the bed and tries to rush to his side but a heavy metal chain holds him back and he falls. He feels helpless as he watches Derek grunt with the effort to stand.

"Stiles," he growls.

It's an animalistic sound that speeds his heart rate. Derek seems to notice the panic and softens.

"Close your eyes," he whispers gently.

With a deep breath he nods, "okay."

Stiles' eyes flutter closed. He hears a howl, like that of a wolf's, way too close and it gets more in response from just outside the door. Warm arms encircle around him and Stiles buries himself in the stranger's comfort.

"It's okay, you're safe now," a soothing voice assures.

"Derek," Stiles chokes in reply.

The arms tighten and Stiles succumbs to exhaustion.

* * *

 

When he comes to, he's in Derek's familiar bedroom in the loft, the one that's been his for some time now. His body aches, worse than when he had a constant fever and in a delirious state. He struggles to get up, part of his mind afraid that chains will pull him back and make him fall, but in the end manages to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

Slowly, Stiles walks toward the door, a trembling hand grabs hold of the doorknob and turns it. He closes his eyes tightly when he reaches the bedroom that's now Derek's. For a moment he contemplates knocking but decides against it. He pushes the door open and walks into the dark room, a lamp on the bedside table is on in the lowest setting.

A soft gasp leaves Stiles breathless when he sees Derek pale and sweaty and he hurries to his side. His soft, trembling, cold hand presses against Derek's feverish skin. His forehead is unbearably hot and the wet towel that was once trying to reduce the fever is warm. Stiles takes it off and carries it to the ensuit bathroom where he proceeds to dip it in the cold running water. He returns and bites his lip as he places it on Derek's forehead. Derek groans and Stiles immediately hushes him.

"I'm sorry Derek," he whispers.

Another low groan.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't- I couldn't fight back," Stiles adds.

"'s okay," Derek mumbles.

Stiles smiles faintly and holds Derek's hand in his.

Noticing the covers are on, Stiles peels them off and his eyes widen in shock. Black veins are covering Derek's torso and seem to lead to one spot. His chest, right where his heart lies.

"God," Stiles hisses.

He moves quickly and calls for someone, anyone that could be in the house. It's Dr. Deaton that responds to his frantic call. Stiles shows him Derek's condition and Deaton simply sighs.

"We're working on it," he offers.

"Working on it? On what? And who's we? Why does he look like he's dying?" Stiles demands.  
Deaton averts his gaze.

Stiles takes a step back and shakes his head refusing to accept the fact that Derek is.

"He's dying?" Stiles wheezes.

His chest constricts and tears gather in his eyes. He's lost too many people. Too many people have died in front of him. Too many to count.

A warm heavy hand lands on his shoulder, "maybe you should go and rest. You're still recovering as well."

Stiles shakes his head adamantly and steps away from the fake comfort that everything is going to be alright.

"This is my fault," he blames.

"Stiles," Deaton tries.

"I c-can't, D-Derek...he's...I can't," he refuses.

Deaton nods in understanding and steps out of the room. Stiles resumes his spot next to Derek and he takes the older's limp hand in his again.  
Stiles buries his face in the broad chest weakly rising and falling.

"You have to be okay Der, you can't die... I'm so sorry," Stiles whispers.

He stays beside Derek and eventually falls asleep. He doesn't even feel when a strong arm wraps around his waist and pulls him closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Spoiler: Isaac and Scott meet  
> Next Update: Soon  
> Thanks For Reading!


	11. Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Isaac meet

Chapter Eleven: Hunters

Isaac felt lost as he slipped out of the loft his head a mess as he thought of what occurred moments ago.

He had witnessed the well-muscled man; he knew was Boyd a popular player for the BHHS lacrosse team, who had brought him to safety turn into a monstrous animal. His face contorted into that of a wolf and eyes burned bright gold before he howled. The sound resounded in the small room and it seemed to rattle the walls. Isaac could only stare horrified and watch as _it_ got on all fours and ran out.

Now he’s wondering around the small town aimlessly. He stopped momentarily to take a deep breath and close his eyes tightly, willing the terrifying memory to go away.

A low growl startles him. He stopped in front of a dark alley causing more memories to surface. The smiling face of the boy who was kidnapped appears inside his mind. A whimper sounding of a puppy draws his attention again. The gray clouds are letting drops of heavy rain fall. On instinct Isaac goes into the dead to find a brown _wolf_ being cornered by three enormous men. The boy’s throat clogs up and his first reaction is to stop whatever those men are planning to do to the poor lycan.

His gaze travels to one of the men’s hands and sees he is holding a syringe. Isaac doesn’t know what is in it but he does know that whatever it is, it’s to hurt the wolf. He launches himself on the most opposing threatening man making him stumble forward.

“Stupid boy!” He screams.

“Leave him alone!” Isaac screams back.

“A monster lover are we?” the man on the left sneers.

Isaac stands in front of the wolf. The perplexed wolf looks at him briefly but seems to register that the human is trying to protect him. A small scoff escapes him but the idiotic move will buy him some time to call the pack. He lowers himself on his belly as he takes position to strike. The man on the right reacts by getting hold of the boy.

The wolf stops and whines deep in his throat.

“What’s wrong you disgusting freak?” The man chuckles.

The man with the syringe approaches them and holds the needle up to the boys pale throat.

“I don’t understand why you attempt to save this _thing_ after what he’s done. Look at your face,” he grasps it hard.

That’s when the wolf sees the boy’s black eye. Bruises marring perfectly smooth skin. He growls.

“Look at him!” He shouts, “look at the face of the boy you’re going to kill.”

The wolf watches in horror as the man plunges the needle into the boy’s skin. Another bruise darkens the once milky skin. They laugh as if it’s the funniest thing ever witnessed. The wolf launches itself at the terrible and pathetic excuse of a human being. His teeth sink into flesh and bitter salty blood fills his mouth.

“Fuck! You little bastard!” The hunter curses.

Unknowingly the hunter who remained silent through the exchange takes out a gun and shoots his companion. The man holding onto the boy drops him and the remaining hunters flee. The wolf smells the boys and finds a familiar scent on him despite the weather. He howls, loud.

He knows how lethal the poison hunters use to put down werewolves is. He knows that it can possibly kill a human. It’s a mixture of different wolf banes; one in particular can affect humans gravely. The wolf immediately shifts back and goes to the boy’s side. He holds him carefully as to not aggravate any of his wounds.

His wolf whines at the smell of poison in the boy’s system.

In moments Jackson barrels into the dead end. That’s how he finds Scott. The teen holding a much smaller, yet lanky, figure in his arms.

“He’s dying,” Scott panics.

“What happened?” Jackson demands.

“Hunters-” he begins.

“They’re back,” Jackson adds.

Scott nods frantically.

“Derek was attacked by one too,” he informs.

All color drains from Scott’s face.

“What?” he croaks.

“We should get him to Deaton,” Jackson replies instead.

“What about him?” Scott motions to the dead hunter.

Jackson looks at the unmoving body and sighs.

“Boyd will take care of it,” he assures.

Scott nods and gathers the agonizing boy in his arms before standing.

“Take him to Derek’s loft, Dr. Deaton is there,” Jackson orders.

“How’s Derek?” Scott asks.

Jackson shakes his head and simply ushers the pair out.

* * *

Scott paces back and forth in front of the closed door when Boyd enters the loft. Scott turns to face him and the beta waves at him to follow. Scott does.

They sit in the living room a bit uncomfortable due to the tension.

“It’s my fault the kid is hurt,” Boyd begins.

Scott tilts his head to the side as he does when he’s confused.

“I shifted in front of him into my beta form,” he elaborates.

“He got scared…” Scott whispers, making the connection.

Boyd nods.

“He saved me,” Scott says just as quietly.

Before either can break the settling silence the door to the room Isaac is currently occupying opens. Both Scott and Boyd stand at the sight of the doctor.

“How is he?” Scott demands.

“His lungs are already failing,” Deaton informs.

Scott takes a sharp intake of breath.

“That means turning him is the only way, right?” Boyd asks rhetorically.

Deaton still answers him anyway with a curt nod.

“Derek isn’t better though… he can’t do it… none of us can either,” Scott mumbles as the cold realization hits him like a ton of bricks.

The alpha is the only one who can turn anyone, even if they can all fully shift it makes no difference. The alpha will always be stronger, powerful, and the only one capable of such a task.

“What do we do?” Scott asks desperately.

“Keep him alive for as long as possible, even if Derek were awake the boy needs just a bit more time to clear the poison from his system,” Deaton suggests.

“And watch him be in agony? This is my fault. If I hadn’t gotten cocky and escaped those damned hunters then this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if I had kept my promise to meet up with Stiles after school he wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped either and Derek wouldn’t be hurt!” Scott yells.

His control is slowly slipping.

“Scott,” Deaton calls cautiously.

“What?”

“It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have known. Your mom is on her way although there's little we can do. Derek and Stiles are recuperating, the least you can do is be by Isaac’s side,” Deaton replies and it’s the most reassuring thing the doctor has ever said.

“Okay,” Scott nods.

He walks into the room where Isaac is. He hadn’t even known the boy went to the same school as them until Boyd confirmed it.

His fist is raised and he’s about to rasp on the door until he realizes no one will answer. He opens the door and swallows thickly as he closes it and slowly turns around.

On the bed is Isaac laying limp. An oxygen mask is over his mouth and nose to help him breath, to keep him _alive_. The sight breaks something inside Scott and he rushes over. Despite being asleep, the boy’s body is tense.

Scott takes hold of a cold hand and begins to take his pain away when he suddenly stops. The boy isn’t in pain, he’s in _utter agony_. Scott takes a deep breath and resumes his attempt to drain away Isaac’s pain. Isaac’s stiff form loosens and he visibly relaxes. It’s the least he could do after everything that’s happened. 

* * *

Lights flood the darkened room and Derek squints at the opened door. A lightweight on his chest makes him groan when he tries to move. His sore shoulder is a painful reminder of the hunter now dead.

“Deaton?” He croaks.

“Alpha Hale,” Deaton greets.

Derek subconsciously runs a hand over the body pressed on top of him until his fingers thread through soft hair. That’s when he looks down to find Stiles in his arms. He looks adorable fast asleep with mussed hair, flushed cheeks, and mouth slightly parted.

“What is he doing here?” Derek questions as he snatches his hand away as if he were burned.

“He refused to leave your side,” Deaton answers.

“He should be resting, he has school tomorrow,” Derek frowns.

“I don’t think he or any of the betas are going tomorrow Alpha,” Deaton smiles sadly.

Derek raises a questioning brow at the man.

The smile now gone as Deaton clears his throat.

“Isaac Lahey,” he begins.

“The boy who saw Stiles,” Derek recalls.

“Scott was ambushed by hunters,” Deaton says.

“What does this have to do with the boy?”

“He was poisoned by one of them; the hunter was killed by another hunter accompanying him after Scott bit him and he is now disposed of but the boy…” Deaton trails off.

Derek nods and feels the oncoming of a headache.

“How is he?”

“His lungs are already failing. I give him a few hours before his heart stops and not enough oxygen to reach his brain. He’ll probably hemorrhage,” Deaton responds.

“How’s Scott?”

“As you may already know, he’s distressed and believes he caused Mr. Stilinski, Mr. Lahey and yourself the damage,” Deaton sighs.

“They’re back,” Derek whispers.

“Indeed.”

Derek’s gaze runs to where Stiles is still sleeping soundly.

“I didn’t want him to know,” Derek huffs.

“May I ask why?” Deaton inquires.

“He’s already going to deal with the fact that we’re mafia, telling him that the supernatural exists will complicate things,” Derek glares.

“If I could give my opinion,” Deaton calls.

Derek nods his approval.

“I believe Mr. Stilinski is strong and he will never run, no matter the circumstance.”

Derek takes a deep breath.

“No school,” he agrees after some time.

Deaton smiles more genuinely.

“Tell the pack to meet tomorrow, we’re going to discuss some things,” Derek orders.

The doctor nods and he slips out the door.

Once the door closes Derek tightens his hold on Stiles. It’s almost alarming how the boy fits perfectly in his arms. It makes his wolf content to know his mate is safe.

Derek scowls as he realizes his thoughts. Stiles is not his mate. He refuses to believe otherwise.

With a free hand, Derek scrubs at his face and lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

Tomorrow seems so far but he knows it’s going to be a long day.

He has to settle arguments in the pack and he’s starting with Erica.

Derek carefully places Stiles on the bed and watches amused as the boy snuggles with the pillow he occupied seconds ago. With a roll of his eyes, the alpha covers the boy with a warm blanket before he steps out.

He walks downstairs and into the room where two heartbeats lie, one slower than the other. He opens the door and the sight that greets him is heart breaking. He quietly steps on the other side the bed, the one that’s vacant and not filled with a stretched Scott taking all the space.

He looks at the boy barely breathing, _barely alive_ , and follows a clear tube stuck to the boy’s hand by a needle to an IV. Wordlessly Derek holds the hand up carefully as to not dislodge the needle. He feels his canines slowly lengthen making it ache. A twinge on his shoulder makes him grind his teeth, eyes momentarily flashing red.

His eyes fall on a lightly snoring Scott and he really hopes the bites takes. If Isaac dies Scott will be completely devastated and will forever blame himself for an innocent’s death. He brings Isaac’s wrist to his mouth and let’s his teeth sink into soft flesh. Beads of blood drip down his chin and the boy’s arm.   His eyes flash crimson again until he let’s go. Isaac starts convulsing which causes Scott to wake up, his eyes bright amber. He growls at Derek seeing his alpha as a threat until his eyes land on Isaac.

“Oh god,” he gasps, his voice deeper with his wolf on edge.

Derek stares at the scene in front of him as a machine, no doubt Melissa stole from the hospital, starts beeping.

Scott’s hold tightens on the hand that isn’t bitten. The action causes Derek to internally wince when he hears bones crunching. A warm hand on Scott’s makes his grip loose and he turns to Derek with watery eyes, apology clear in them. A sob tears from Scott’s throat and Derek wonders how long the boy was by the human’s side.

“Scott,” he whispers gently.

Scott shakes his head in denial.

Just as both wolves are about to resign, Isaac’s eyes fly open to reveal beautiful, almost liquid gold, eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: Pack Meeting  
> Next Chapter Update: Soon  
> Thanks For Reading!


	12. Pack Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica is given the choice to leave or stay while Derek reveals to Isaac what he is.

Chapter Twelve: Pack Meeting

Derek looks at the bed still occupied by a sleeping Stiles. The light snoring, more like breathing, fills the once empty room. The only difference now is that Isaac is sleeping right next to the unconscious boy. They're both dead to the world wrapped in bed sheets and each other.

After waking up in extreme agony, the only name Isaac could gasp out was "Stiles." Tears had gathered in bright blue eyes and Derek had carried the newly turned wolf to the room Stiles was in wondering what the connection between the two was. Now they sleep tangled together, a few pain filled sounds escape Isaac here or there, clearly the increased sensitivity in his senses. Whenever a tiny sound of complain disturbed the silence in the room, Stiles unconsciously placed a hand on Isaac which seemed to calm him immensely.

Derek had finally come to a decision.

He won't tell Stiles, he can't fathom the idea of the human knowing what he is. What his whole family is. Isaac is the exception, he had to tell the new werewolf what he was. He would tell him later.

Now, Derek had to deal with his pack waiting anxiously outside in the living room. He could feel the concern radiate off of the room. The smell was palpable in the air and he scrunched his face. No doubt they were jumping to conclusions, except maybe Scott. The boy had nearly cried in relief at seeing Isaac wake up.

Derek continues his trek down the stairs, his arm was in a sling, despite having the ability to heal, the wound was profound and the bullet was laced with wolfs bane making the process painfully slow. When he stepped on the last stair in clad socked feet, everyone who was talking immediately stopped. They all looked at him expectantly and some winced at the sling. They knew it had to be bad if the Alpha needed to wear one.

His parents were looking at him concerned, Talia looked seconds away from rushing toward him. He offers them a brief smile before schooling his expression into a stoic face.

"I think we should talk," he rasps.

His voice is rough with weariness and much needed sleep.

Everyone gathers around, waiting for their Alpha to continue.

"Erica," he calls.

The blond looks up and offers a smile.

Derek's eyes turn fiery and she whimpers at the sudden displeasure of her alpha. It's like something bitter in her mouth.

"A-Alpha?"

"Why did you hurt Stiles?" Derek asks.

She gulps and stands, her back straight and eyes turning hard.

"I didn't do anything wrong," she replies.

A smirk is planted on her face because technically she didn't touch the disgusting human.

Derek smiles just as sweetly, "of course not, you just watched as your goons beat him, then you made your move."

Erica takes a step back. Derek lets her.

"He's human!" she spits.

"He's done nothing wrong!" Derek hisses.

"Der-"

In a blink Derek stands before her, his hand clasped around her thin neck. With enough pressure he could snap her neck, and they know it. Her face turns red and then blue from lack of oxygen.

"Derek," she screeches breathless.

Her claws extend and she scratches at Derek's hand.

Derek lets her go and she collapses to the floor. There's a sharp intake of breath somewhere in the room.

"The only thing wrong Stiles has done is be alive. His mother died when he was ten and his father just recently passed away. I get it Erica, you've been hurt. Your parents found you burdensome and when you were dying no one cared but you have the one thing Stiles lost. You have a pack, a family. Why can't you see that?"

Erica is trembling on the floor, her mascara running as the truth hits her hard.

"Isaac Lahey is now part of this pack. He needs to know that this isn't like his home where he witnessed violence until his mother abandoned him only to leave him with an abusive father. He's been beaten and broken, he needs a family, but I bet you don't even know who he is," Derek says sadly.

Danny had been ordered to dig Isaac's background information.

The young wolf turns her gaze to the hard ground.

"You can either start getting a long with Stiles or you can leave."

"You wouldn't kick me out of the pack! You can't!" she argues.

Derek crouches in front of her.

"You aren't any better Erica, you were once human too."

Erica's eyes grow wide before they narrow into a glare, "just because you're a born wolf doe-"

This is when Theodore interrupts having had enough, "this has nothing to do with being a born wolf. In a pack you show respect and you care for one another. I agree with my son's decision, you either learn to get along with everyone or you can leave."

The beta gapes at the former alpha and she stands to hastily run out the loft. She feels hurt that the people she's known for years are siding with a boy they've only known for two months.

The pack watches her leave, a few are feeling uncomfortable and the silence is deafening.

Laura is the first to react.

She stands and gives her brother a tight hug.

"I think you made a good decision," she whispers even though the others can hear perfectly.

"You did," Jackson echoes.

Boyd, although upset with Erica, gives Derek a pat on the back and nods his approval. As his second, Boyd understood Derek's position and didn't fault him for it. A pack is family and family is supposed to help and protect each other. He just hopes Erica can see that.

Derek nods and lets the pack stay in the loft for however long they need. His parents have excused themselves along with Uncle Peter, Laura, and Valerie- the oldest Hale sibling and the only mated. Cora couldn't make it but Derek knows their parents will fill her in on his decision.

It's tense and no one seems to want to break the silence, even Danny who isn't a wolf is a bit overwhelmed.

Everyone stiffens when they hear a door open and Danny looks around confused until Isaac steps into the room. He's breathing sharply, his eyes shut tightly, and hands over his ear. Scott leaps from his spot on the couch and helps Isaac sit down carefully.

"How do you feel?" He asks quietly knowing that despite having his ears covered, Isaac would hear.

"'m fine," Isaac croaks

"Kid, you hungry?" Boyd asks.

Isaac only nods.

Jackson follows Boyd into the kitchen to cook everyone food. Or at least attempt to.

Danny moves to sit on the arm of the sofa next to Isaac and carefully threads his fingers through the curly light brown hair. Derek simply observes from his spot on the leather armchair.

"Breath deeply," Scott instructs.

Isaac's nose wrinkles in distaste and he quickly shakes his head.

"Com'on just take it easy."

Stiles strides in while rubbing his right eye, he's still "borrowing" Derek's pjs even though they went shopping. If anyone asks he'll just say that he still has them because they're comfortable.  It wouldn't be a lie but it's not the complete truth either.

When he opens his eyes, the sight that greets him is more or less confusing. He can see Isaac's pain and he narrows his eyes at his best friend, no doubt blaming him for Isaac's discomfort.

"Scott!"

Scott leaps back surprised and Isaac jumps in his seat while whimpering from the loud noise.

Stiles rushes toward him and comforts him, "sorry pup."

Derek immediately tenses at the word since he specifically told everyone he didn't want Stiles to know, yet.

" _Pup_?" Scott asks, voice gone an octave higher.

They all hear when a plate falls and breaks while a spoon is dropped into the sink with a clang. The loud noises hurt Isaac further.

"Hey, hey, migraine? I know they suck," Stiles assumes.

Danny had stopped running soothing fingers through Isaac's hair but resumes when he realizes that Stiles doesn't know.

"Okay first, open your eyes," Stiles encourages.

Isaac does, ever so slowly.

The light hurts causing him to shut his eyes tightly again.

Stiles looks around and hurries to shut the curtains, at least it will marginally stop light from filtering through the window.

"Okay, it's okay..."

Isaac's eyes flutter open and he looks around in wonder with glazed blue eyes. Everything looks so clear even in the darkened room.

Slowly his hands fall to his lap and he can hear a thousand times better. He can even hear the birds chirping outside miles away.

There's a look of pure wonderment. Before Isaac can ask, Derek shoos Stiles away with a, "they're in your kitchen."

Stiles gasps and stomps into the kitchen ready to fight whoever decided to touch _his_ kitchen.

It's almost comical how Stiles has become comfortable in the loft after just a few short months. Ever since Scott introduced him to the world of social media, Stiles has become obsessed with the cooking channel and has been using the kitchen for his personal use. Cooking is his way of thanking Derek for taking care of him.

Isaac laughs as Stiles struts away. Derek can smell his pain even if the boy pretends to be fine, he'll talk with Stiles later about it because he knows he's doing it to not worry the others.

Jackson will never admit it, but he has a soft spot for Stiles and so does Boyd. Scott and Danny will be the only ones to actually show their affectation and concern for the human.  
Now, he has to explain to Isaac what is happening to him although the new younger wolf seems calm and content.

"Isaac," Derek begins.

His back straightens as he turns to face the older male.

"Have you heard of lycanthrope?"

Isaac's eyes are wide as he shakes his head "no". Scott places a reassuring hand on his shoulder and offers the frightened boy a small smile.

* * *

Stiles is sitting in the living room with a notebook on his lap and a pencil in hand. Everyone already went their separate ways after Dr. Deaton and Ms. McCall arrived to check on Stiles and Isaac.

He's staring intently at the television while writing down notes, his hand writing still a bit sloppy. Nothing can deter his happiness right now and he can't wait to try the new breaded lemon chicken recipe on display.

" _In a shallow dish, combine the butter, lemon juice, garlic, salt and pepper. Place bread crum-_ "

Derek joins him and his attention on the show breaks to look at him.

The older male takes a seat next to Stiles and the boy stares and waits expectantly.

"Pup?" Derek finally questions.

Stiles smiles sadly and nods.

"When I first saw him I thought he looked like a puppy, he's adorable like that," Stiles shrugs.

"You knew?"

"That he's abused at home? Yes," he answers honestly.

"How?"

"I saw him at school, he was alone and honestly it appeared like no body even knew he existed. A kid like that won't get bullied because even the bullies don't know about his existence," Stiles sighs.

Derek nods in understanding as Stiles closes his eyes tiredly. He lets his hand lightly touch the younger's cheek softly, a darkening bruise under his eye. Stiles flinches but relaxes as Derek drains his pain.

"Isaac is going to be staying here," Derek informs.

Stiles smiles a bit, he kind of figured since Isaac is currently in Derek's temporary bedroom, that was originally meant for guests.

"We should adopt him," Stiles mumbles.

Derek smiles and is glad Stiles can't see him.

"We can't just do that," Derek whispers.

"You can."

Derek chuckles, the sound making Stiles shiver.

"Sleep with me?" he asks on impulse.

Derek stops and watches as Stiles opens his eyes to look at him. His heart didn't stutter but he has to ask.

"What?"

"Sleep with me, you know until Isaac gets better and he can go back home," Stiles repeats, the 'because you don't want to adopt him' is implied.

Derek rolls his eyes at the clear accusation in Stiles' eyes and replies with a simple, "Okay."


	13. Feral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Rape (a badly written attempt so not too scarring)  
> Not your cup o' tea? Don't read.

Chapter Thirteen: Feral

Stiles bites his lip as he looks around his home.  Five months and the idea still sounds absurd that he lives with one of the Hales.  And it has to be gorgeous, adonis, Derek Hale.

Checking the fridge for the umpteenth time, he decides, that yes, he needs to go grocery shopping because of course they would run out of food.  It's not like it matters though, considering Derek leaves tonight, again.  Stiles sighs a bit depressed, his heart stuttering at the thought of Derek but knowing that the older male will never see him as Stiles does.

He makes a mental list as he rummages through the kitchen and notices that Derek's personal stash of Chai Tea is running low.  He bites his lip, an unnerving habit, as he looks at the almost empty box and decides to add it to his mental list.

Determined, Stiles walks out the apartment knowing that Derek would come home before disappearing again.  He strides in the street minding his own business, finally knowing the way to the loft and around town.  He stops in front of the grocery store he stole from five months ago.  He debates on going in or leaving in search for another store.  Taking a deep breath, Stiles makes his way inside.  Usually Derek or someone else buys groceries but Stiles is in desperate need and Derek has given him money to spend, which he saves for an emergency.

Knowing where everything is he turns into an aisle and let's his eyes scan the countless shelves of food.  A few minutes later, the cart he's been pushing is filled with the necessary ingredients for tonight's dinner and tomorrow's.  He pauses and looks at the countless number of boxes, each a different type of tea.

Stiles smiles in triumph when he sees Derek's favorite Black Chai Tea at the top.  He grabs it on his tippy-toes and turns to put it in the cart a few feet away.  However, he bumps into someone and carelessly drops the box as it slips from his nimble fingers.

"Sorry sweetheart," the woman he accidentally collided with apologize.

"It's okay, I didn't know there was someone there," Stiles smiles sheepishly.

The woman bends and grabs the box he's dropped, Stiles feels a bit foolish and embarrassed- he doesn't even realize when the stranger hands him another box.

"Thank you," he beams.

"Welcome," she replies with a mischievous smile planted on her face.

Stiles shakes the bad feeling he has and goes to the cashier.  He ends up paying more than he has too, the girl tries giving him his change but he refuses.

It's the least he could do after stealing from them.

Once outside Stiles regrets not calling Scott or Boyd to help him with the bags.  He hates feeling hopeless and thus takes everything himself.

When he's finally home, he's a panting, sweating mess.  He drops the bags in the entrance glad he didn't bring eggs or else they would have cracked.  With a hum, he drags the groceries the rest of the way inside.

His hands are red from the imprint the bags left.  He takes the food out and places it on the counter before he starts putting some away.  His eyes linger on the tea until he puts water to boil.

A small smile adorns Stiles lips and he hopes Derek can at least eat before leaving.

Just as the timer dings an hour and a half later, the front door opens.  Stiles jumps but quickly turns around to see Derek looking at him, seemingly more broody and sour than usual.

"D-Derek," Stiles stutters.

Derek raises a brow.

And more silent too.

"I..uh made dinner," he gestures at the cooling steak with veggies.

"Don't have time," he grunts.

Stiles' shoulders visibly slump.

"At least have tea," he whispers sadly.

Derek assesses the boy before him and heads to his own bedroom.  Stiles is now sleeping in the guest room and no one has heard from Isaac, although he's still seen in school per usual.  Scott's mood has gotten bad and he's starting to be like Derek in a sense.  Derek, though, ignores the world.  The full moon is tonight and he has to meet the pack at the Hale manor to run around in the preserve and blow off the excess energy the moon provides.

The wolf snatches a grey Hanley and pulls on some black jeans before shrugging on his leather jacket.  Derek makes his way back downstairs and into the kitchen where Stiles sits alone.  The smell of sadness rolling off him in waves.

A steaming cup is across from him on the table, two plates served but Derek truly doesn't have time.

He takes a seat and decides to simply have the tea.

"What are you?"

Derek places the cup down onto the table and looks at the boy who's avoiding his gaze.

"What?" he questions gruffly.

"I...I want to know, why don't you trust me?"

"Why ask now?"

"I thought that m-maybe you would tell me...eventually," he shrugs.

Derek doesn't answer.

"What are you?"

He would feel better if Stiles minded his own business but the damn kid was persistent and Derek knew he won't let it go.  Instead he downs the scalding tea and stands.

Stiles stands as well and realizes that he really means nothing to Derek.  The man can't and will never rely on him.  He trudges upstairs and enters Derek's room thinking the older male has left.

Something inside Derek snaps and he follows the boy to his room quietly closing and locking the door behind him.  His wolf is prowling and he knows he's shifting but it's like he can't feel it, can't control it.  Not when it's the full moon.  He's numb.

He growls.

Stiles' back tenses.  He slowly spins around to face him and he backs away at the sight.

"Derek," he asks terrified.

The fear is evident in his shaking voice.  His back hits the wall across the room and Derek stalks him.  There's no way out.

"You want to know?  Do you still want to know!" Derek shouts, his voice thick as canines lengthen.

Stiles' face turns to the side and his eyes shut tightly.

"You want to know?" he repeats.

Stiles' heart is beating frantically and blood rushes to his head.  Hands with sharp _claws_ grasp his arms tightly, his shirt ripping.  He's roughly thrown on the bed, Derek looming above him with red eyes.  Honey eyes widen and he shakes his head as tears slide down.

A taunting hand trails down his leg and suddenly his jeans are torn off.

"Want to know the monster I am?" Derek growls.

 _It's not Derek_ , Stiles thinks, _it's not him!_

"Look at me!"

Callous hands force his face to look at the beast.

"This is what you want?  This is what you'll get."

Stiles' breath hitches as he's left naked over his shredded clothes.

"Derek, please... no stop please!" Stiles begs, his voice breaking.

Derek undos his jeans and takes out his erection, Stiles closes his eyes again.  The blunt head rubs against his puckered entrance and he screams as Derek pushes in.  More tears flow freely and he chokes as he gasps for air.  His hands grab Derek's shoulders and he digs his nails into the skin watching in horror as the cuts bleed and fade.

In one thrust Derek is fully sheathed, a moan escaping the older male.  Stiles is overwhelmed with pain, it's agony and he can't do anything but thrash his head in protest.  With a grunt Derek pulls out only to thrust back in, a blood curdling scream is ripped from Stiles.

No one hears.

"D-Derek," he whimpers weakly.

"I'm the monster everyone hates, you should've minded your own business," he grits with a sharp snap of his hips.

Stiles bites his lip hard enough that it bleeds and Derek captures them in a bruising kiss leaving him breathless.

Derek buries his face in the boy's neck and feels as his orgasm approaches.

He howls as his knot forms and he bites down into Stiles' exposed neck as he comes inside him.  The edges of his vision begin to blur until it fades and Stiles passes out.

A single tear on his stained cheek rolls down.

When Derek pulls away he's horrified, his humanity finally returning after becoming _feral_.  He's had better control, this shouldn't have happened.  He tries to pull away from the pale limp boy but realizes they're tied.  His heart breaks as he remembers how Stiles begged for him to stop, the fear pungent in the air but he didn't- couldn't help himself.

The next thing his wide sea foam eyes travel to is Stiles' neck, the deep bite red and a few beads of blood oozing out.  Derek swallows over the lump of disgust forming in his throat.  He raped Stiles...and he's mated him.

Stiles will hate him, he probably already does.  Derek's stomach churns and he buries his face in Stiles' neck again, taking deep lung fulls of his scent to calm down.  He never meant for this to happen, not when he loved the human after such a short time.  It wasn't his intention to hurt him.

He's finally become the monster he's feared, it feels like he's becoming _her_.  He howls as he blinks his own tears away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: None  
> Next Update: I don't know *shrug* (depends on feedback really)  
> Anyway... Thanks For Reading!


	14. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

Chapter Fourteen: Nightmare

The first thing Stiles registers is how sore he feels, every move, every breath- hurts.  
He whimpers but no comfort is offered like every other time. His heavy eyes flutter open when the growing panic inside overwhelms him.

The bed is cold and empty, the room is filled with silence and Derek is gone. Stiles' eyes shut close and he wills his heart to stop pounding painfully in his chest. His breathing is slowly becoming rapid, erratically growing faster and his body suddenly feels numb. His arms wrap around himself as he cries, his sobs echoing through the empty loft.

It hurts, physically and emotionally. He draws his knees to his chest and ignores the blood stained sheets. His skin feels tight and he grimaces at the dried cum and blood on his thighs. His neck hurts, aches and a trembling hand reaches up. There are bruises covering his torso and when he draw his fingers away from his neck, blood stains them. He swallows through the lump forming in his throat while he curls up as best as he can.

 _It wasn't Derek,_ he repeats in his head.

It's like a mantra stuck on replay as he's assaulted with memories of hours prior. His shallow breathing worsens, tears and snot runs down his pale face. With tremors in his hand, Stiles wipes them away and chokes.

"Derek wouldn't do this," he whispers hoarsely trying hard to convince himself.

His throat feels raw from screaming. He feels weak and vulnerable. He gave everything to Derek. He laid himself bare for the man to trust him, to open up. What he saw wasn't Derek. It was an animal that attacked, that hurt him.

"Derek," he whimpers, hoping the man would burst in to cradle him while he cries like he did months ago.

He feels disgusted for calling Derek's name but it soothes something in him even if the hurt is still there. The memories will always haunt him, he can never see Derek the same.  
He takes a deep breath and slowly gets off the bed only to collapse on the cold hard floor with a painful thud. His legs are weak and can't support his weight, his arms barely hold his upper body as he crawls to his discarded torn clothes.

He falls and doesn't have the energy to get up. His breath hitches when he feels something dribble down his thighs and he's crying again.

The door creaks open and Derek rushes beside him immediately. His muscled arms engulf him completely and Stiles let's himself relax against the older male. Derek's heart constricts and breaks at the sight, Stiles looks so small, fragile and weak.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against the boy's temple, "I'm so sorry."

Stiles doesn't answer, can't face Derek so he buries his face deeper into the warm chest.

"Stiles," Derek whispers.

He shakes his head furiously until the pounding in his head becomes incessant. Derek holds him just a little bit tighter and drains his pain.

"D-Don't," Stiles gasps finally understanding how Derek always made his pain go away with a simple brush of his fingers.

The wolf stops.

"Please," he whimpers again, broken.

It's hard to swallow, to breathe but somehow Derek manages to take a breath as he picks up the lithe body. He carries him back to the bed and Stiles screams, breaks down, and holds onto him for dear life.

"Stop! No! God, no! Derek!" He sobs with tightly closed eyes.

Derek quickly scoops him back into his arms and soothes him. The memory of what he did resurface and his grip is painfully tight at the sight of the bed. He needs to go, he knows he has to leave.

"Stiles listen to me," Derek orders.

"Y-You're a-a lycan," Stiles stutters through gritted teeth afraid of his own fears betraying him.

Derek carefully places him on the couch in the living room and he kneels in front of the boy. Stiles avoids looking at him, his hands jittery and his leg bouncing uncontrollably. It's then that he realizes he's still bare and he curls in on himself. Derek takes off the gray Henley he had put back on after what happened. Stiles lip is already bleeding from worrying it between his teeth and his chest rises and falls in panic. _Was Derek going to hurt him again?_

The metallic salty taste floods his mouth as soft fingers tentatively touch his lips to stop Stiles from continuing. He relents and leans into Derek's warm hand caressing his cheek. His body trusting the man he should hate.  
Derek carefully slips the shirt over his head and is careful not to touch the painfully red bite on Stiles' sensitive throat.

The shirt is soft and warm on his skin and too big. The silky grey fabric reaches mid thigh and leaves his shoulder exposed proving how thin and small he is compared to the wolf.  
Stiles' own shaking hand reaches to touch his stubbled cheek even if it hurts to move.

"I'm a monster," Derek admits.

He looks up at the small boy with pleading eyes shifting amber gold before returning to their normal stunning emerald. It hypnotizes Stiles, makes his heart skyrocket in fear and something he can't begin to describe.

"I can't," Stiles says in a soft voice thick with unshed tears clinging to his wet long curved lashes.

Derek nods in understanding, "that's why I'm leaving."

The boy tenses and shakes his head in denial, "y-you can't leave."

"And you can't stand me," Derek counters gently trying to avoid upsetting Stiles.

"That's not- What? I- No!" Stiles refuses as he continues shaking his head.

"Stiles-" Derek begins but is interrupted.

"You can't leave," he sniffles.

Derek holds him, wraps his arm around his thin body and pulls him closer. He loses track of time and just cards his fingers through Stiles' thin chocolate hair until he falls asleep, Derek's arms constantly covered in black veins despite the boy's protests. Cautiously, he rises from the couch when he's sure Stiles heart is steady and his breathing even only to carry Stiles into the guest room while he gets rid of the evidence in his own room. Before he closes the door to the bedroom, he sees Stiles seek out the warmth he can no longer provide, the trust he ruined, and the safety he destroyed. He faintly hears when Stiles mumbles his name one last time.

* * *

 

Stiles panics, he's tired but there's something- someone- missing. It tugs at his insides as he crawls out of bed feeling like this has all happened before.

He hopes against all odds that it was just a dream. He prays that what Derek did was a nightmare he can finally wake up from.  
With fists closed tight so his nails leave crescent shaped indents in his soft palms, he builds courage to look down only to confirm that he's wearing Derek's shirt even as the man is nowhere to be found.

He crawls out of the big bed limping around the room in search for a phone, anything to help stop this gnawing feeling.

With shaking hands that won't get better, Stiles manages to dial the number he's diligently memorized. It rings and that's when he realizes he'd been trying to call Derek. Craves the man's touch, his voice, his eyes, everything. The phone slips from his hands and his heart rate spikes but he knows Derek won't come back, not when the ringing of his phone is coming from the living room.  
Stiles picks up the damn thing again and dials the only number he could think of that wouldn't ask questions, that will help him.

"Stiles?"

"Help me," he gasps through his pained cries finally realizing that this nightmare is really happening.

"Please, help me," he begs desperately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: none  
> Next update: Soon...maybe  
> Thanks for reading and the feedback! :)


	15. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rain won't last forever, he knows that.

Chapter Fifteen: Rain

Derek ran away.

He was already shifted when he sprint out the door and into the woods. His eyes glowing as the wind picked up with each unwavering step he took. He didn't look back, couldn't bear to look back at what he's done.

It wasn't him.

He wants to believe that, he really does, but the scene is vivid and engraved in his mind. It doesn't matter how many times Stiles tries convince himself, Derek knows. It's like a fresh wound that even if it heals, the scar will always remain. A torturous reminder of what he did to the boy he was supposed to and wanted to protect.

Dark grey clouds are hovering above him and soon light drops of rain splash on his black fur.

He's panting, tired, but doesn't want to stop, wants to be as far away as possible. Breathing harshly he slows until he momentarily pauses in front of a growing puddle. He sees his reflection. The monster Stiles saw. Red eyes constant, sharp pearl canines on display as he growls at the beast before him.

A clawed paw slashes through the water, watching as the image fades into echoing ripples. He continues his trek to the other side of the preserve, makes his body work harder, pushing it to its limit. The light drizzle ever present until he reaches his destination.

He tugs at the bag mounted on his back and shoves it as far away from him as possible. He shifts and stands to his full height, green eyes dull with guilt. He takes out the contents of the bag, a lighter falls neatly on top of the mess of torn clothes and bedsheets. With a flick, a flame makes his eyes glow a deep orange. The smell of blood, Stiles' blood, fills his lungs and he feels sick.

His eyes follow the small fire as it spreads throughout the marred material setting it aflame. Yellows mixing with oranges to create destruction.

He feels his bones shift, his body contorting as his shift takes over. Black fur sprouting over smooth muscled skin. It's now heavily raining but the fire still rages on, doing the dirty work of erasing the hurt.

Derek looks up to the falling sky, snout upward taking caution of the wind, and howls. Long and loud leaving his lungs aching. It's full of sorrow and guilt, yet also somehow conveying disgust for what he's done.

* * *

 "Mom?" Scott looks up from his relentless pacing.

Melissa meets her son's eyes with a sad expression.

"How is he?" He questions immediately.

When no response comes he starts to panic, but a soft hand on his shoulder calms him.

"Did you smell anyone on him?" Melissa inquires.

Scott shakes his head, "no, when I got there Stiles was on the floor b-bleeding a-and wearing Derek's clothes, his scent masking anyone else's. Why?"

Melissa was afraid of this, something her son wasn't aware of.

Derek's scent wasn't masking the culprit that hurt Stiles, Derek _is_ the one that damaged the boy.

"Nothing sweetheart, Stiles is tired, try not to stress him," she replies with a pat on his arm.

That's an invitation Scott takes as he slowly pushes the door open to see his bruised friend on his bed.

The scene he had witnessed still fresh on his mind. He hadn't expected to find his best friend pale with bruises and bloodied. He hadn't expected the call he received to turn so bad.

_"Stiles?" He had answered when he heard crying._

_"Help me," Stiles had gasped through pained cries._

_"Please, help me," he begged desperately._

_Scott was partially shifted when he arrived,_ _the front door unlocked. He had cautiously followed the scent of tears and blood until he found Stiles._

He shudders now just remembering how broken Stiles was, how he still is. He places a tentative hand on one of Stiles' laying limp on top of the warm blanket protecting him from the cold. He's dressed in some of Scott's clothes, a white tee and sweats that fit a bit big on him.

With a quiet moan his head lolls to the side, toward Scott who just took a seat beside the bed.

" 'erek?" He groans quietly.

Scott's hand squeezes Stiles' cold one.

"He's out looking for the bastard that hurt you," Scott answers.

Stiles would have laughed if he weren't in so much pain. Scott notices the grimace and attempts to discreetly take away his friend's pain. Stiles' weak hand grasps his in a loose hold.

"Don't hide from me," Stiles croaks.

Scott's eyes widen and he snatches his hand away.

"You know?" He asks shocked.

Stiles manages a tired nod with a small smile.

Scott grabs a cup and fills it with the water, no doubt set by his mom.

"Here," he offers.

With Scott's help, Stiles sits up and winces.  
Scott takes his free hand again and drains away his pain without having to hide.

"Where's Derek?" Stiles asks again.

"I really don't kn-" Scott pauses mid sentence.

His back tenses and his amber eyes travel to the window. Rain is beating violently against the glass but he can still hear it.

A howl so loud it hurts his ears and his wolf is clawing it's way up.

Stiles flinches and instinctively moves away from the wolf who ignores him as it walks to the closed window in a trance.

"Derek," he breathes.

"Derek?" Stiles whispers sitting up and desperately trying to stand but failing.

Scott snaps out of his trance and helps Stiles back in bed.

"You should be resting," Scott chastise.

"What's going on Scott? Where's Derek?" Stiles asks frantically.

Scott looks at his friend almost guilty.

Stiles fingers dig into Scott's arms when no answer comes. He feels a panic build inside of him.

"Where's Derek?!" He demands.

Scott looks down and carefully dislodges Stiles' fingers from his arm, "he's leaving."

"Leaving?" Stiles gapes.

Scott nods.

"Leaving!"

Stiles struggles to get out of bed and Scott's arms wrap around him. Stiles buries his face into his friend's shoulder, he feels helpless. He doesn't know what's going on with his heart and body but he does know that Derek can't leave.

"I don't know what happened Stiles... but Derek's hurt... I... he's hurting," Scott says with a whine underlying his voice.

"You have to go find him!"

Scott shakes his head and gently lays Stiles back down.

"I don't think he wants to be found... and even... even if we wanted to..." he trails off eyes going back to the window, "his scent is gone. Washed away."

Stiles let's a single tear roll down his cheek as he turns away from Scott trying to become a small invisible ball curling in on himself.

The door opens and closes softly.

Stiles has never felt more alone.

* * *

 

"Sweetheart," Melissa whispers.

Stiles doesn't move, he hasn't so much as slept since finding out Derek really left hours ago. He can't respond, his throat feels tight and his eyes sting with fresh tears he's adamant not to cry.

"Stiles," she says, her hand carefully grasping his thin shoulder.

Stiles doesn't comply.

With a heavy sigh Melissa takes a seat on the bed.

"It was Derek right?"

Stiles curls up trying to be even smaller.  His arms wrapping around his thin waist, his knees drawn up to his chest. The blanket engulfs his entire body, and his eyes shut tightly.

"He would never hurt you... not if he was in his right state of mind," Melissa says.

"Then why did he? Why does he still hurt me?" Stiles finally asks brokenly.

"He'll come back," she promises.

Stiles bites his lip and confesses with a soft voice, "he hurt me."

"I know sweetheart," she soothes.

"I need him," he admits shocked.

Melissa smiles, "you love him."

"H-How? A-After he... I should hate him," Stiles argues.

"Dr. Deaton is stopping by to ask a few questions, you should rest," she urges.

Stiles turns to face her and she wipes away his tears.

"He's going to come back right?" He asks his voice thick, a lump making it hard to swallow.

"He'll be back, " she assures, "after a storm comes the sun."

"Thank you," he whispers eyes closing as he lets out a small sigh.

Melissa's fingers run through his hair like his mom used to do before she died. The blanket is tucked in around him and the door closes once more.

The rain won't last forever, he knows that.


	16. Let Go of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry,” she whispers her eyes trailing to Stiles’ sleeping form.  
> “Erica,” Derek sighs.

Chapter Sixteen: Let Go of the Past

A grey beast breathes heavily as bright eyes track its prey through the dark forest.  The earth is soft and muddied with the fresh fall of rain.  Green and browning leaves stick to the soaked ground and dead branch sticks lay still.  Amber eyes narrow as it lowers its body to the wet mud.  Its snout wrinkled as sharp teeth are shown in a menacing growl.  Without its prey realizing the danger, it leaps from its hiding place behind an old oak.

The black wolf the beast was stalking immediately turns as its hind legs rise, fur standing on end despite the dripping of rain clinging to it.  The grey wolf doesn’t hold back and launches its weight atop the black wolf.  The darker wolf evades and skids on the slippery mud as it snarls at his attacker.  The older wolf digs its claws into the rich earth to prevent slipping.  It quickly turns to its prey and both circle each other, sizing one another carefully.  The younger wolf flashes its eyes red and growls but his opponent doesn’t mind and copies it.  It’s as if they are looking at a mirror.

The black wolf is tired of this and attacks his attacker.  The grey wolf shifts and catches the weight of the beast in his arms barely managing to throw it against a tree.  Derek rises again defensively.  The man stands and looks at the wolf, his hard expression softening.

“Derek,” he calls.

Derek stiffens.

“Derek,” he repeats more firmly.

Derek relaxes, not much, but enough that the man isn’t completely threatened.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” the man questions.

Derek growls low in his chest.

“I understand, it must hurt but that is no excuse…” he trails off, “you care for him.”

Derek huffs in exasperation, he shouldn’t be here, he should be far away by now.

“Come back,” the older male says.

Finally the wolf takes a step back as it to turn tail and run, run far away.  The man, his father, raises his hand up in surrender.   His face is full of sadness that shakes Derek’s core.  Slowly and cautiously as to not startle the wolf, he extends a hand.  Derek swallows thickly and shakes his head.

“Stiles means everything to you but he needs you and running away isn’t going to help either,” his dad admonishes.

With trembling legs, exhausted from running, Derek finally takes a step toward his dad.

“This isn’t like Paige and Kate,” his dad assures.

The wolf whines at the mention of buried memories but he relents and shifts back after hours of denying his body rest.  His bones crack and his body soon feels more lax in itself.  He takes a deep breath and opens his tightly closed eyes to look at his dad.  Bright blue fades into green like the forest surrounding them.  Theodore smiles at his son.

“You have to let go of the past,” Theodore says.

“It hurts,” Derek admits with a voice laced thick in pain.

“I know,” Theodore whispers, but Derek hears him.

“He’s okay?” Derek asks.

“He’s hurt,” His dad answers honestly.

“He hates me,” Derek huffs and laughs bitterly, “and he’s right to do so.”

“Derek,” Theodore sighs.

Derek looks down at the ground in self-loathing, his feet are covered in mud and he can only picture what he must look like.  Theodore doesn’t seem to mind as he takes a step toward his son and places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“This isn’t like Paige and Kate,” he repeats gently, “come home.”

Reluctantly Derek nods but stops himself and shakes his head.  Theodore removes his hand and sighs in defeat.  As he turns his back to head through the preserve he barely hears Derek’s whisper.

“I have to talk to Deaton.”

“It wasn’t you,” Theodore faces his son and his face lights up with a sad smile.

“But it was, and Stiles saw what I feared he’d have to witness.  I lost control when I was most weak and prudent to, I need to know why because this hasn’t happened before,” Derek replies.

“Go then, Deaton might have answers,” Theodore reassures.

In the distant both men can hear the howls of pack, of home.

“Maybe I’ll learn to let go,” Derek mumbles before shifting and turning back to race through the woods.

Theodore smiles, true and genuine, “I know you can.”

The pack arrives a few minutes later and they turn human once Theodore comes to view.

“Where’s Derek?” Scott asks breathless.

“Don’t worry, he’s not going anywhere,” Theodore assures.

“What about Stiles? Does he know what happen?  Did he find the bastard that hurt him?”

Jackson sighs and shakes his head, Boyd simply stands with his arms crossed over his chest.

“He’ll find him,” Theodore smiles knowing that the younger wolf has no idea what’s truly going on, and it might be for the best.

“Thank god,” he smiles.

Jackson laughs at that and quietly huffs a “clueless idiot.”

* * *

 

Derek stands beside the bed as he watches Stiles sleep, the fall and rise of his chest the only tale tell of the boy being alive, yet dead to the world.  Derek reaches a tentative hand and brushes away strands of soft brown hair away from the boy’s sleeping face.

Deaton walks in and pats his shoulder.

“The tea and by the description it must have been Argent,” the doctor informs.

“The tea?”

“We explained everything to Stiles and he recounted that while he went shopping, he encountered a woman with Kate Argent’s description.  He said that she had offered him the box of Chai tea he had dropped but that she seemed suspicious although he had no reason to doubt her intentions of helping,” Deaton answered.

“She spiked it?”

“Melissa took a sample to a toxicologist lab and confirmed the grounded pieces of wolfs bane among the tea leaves,” Deaton nodded in agreement, “non-damaging but with resulting consequences of desire.”

“Will he be alright?” Derek asks concerned.

“I gave him something to calm down, after having the results back he blamed himself and broke down.  It’ll take time but he’s healing.”

Derek dismisses him with a nod and Deaton leaves.

The door opens not two minutes later to reveal Erica.  She walks toward the bed almost sheepish as she stands beside her alpha.  Derek stands stiff, rigid when she approached him but he remained silent.  Three months.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers her eyes trailing to Stiles’ sleeping form.

“Erica,” Derek sighs.

“Derek, I know… I truly am sorry.  I heard what happened, I wouldn’t have wanted anything to hurt him or you like what's happened.  I’m sorry for acting like I did.  I should understand since, at some point, I was like him,” she nods toward the bed.

“What do you want?” Derek questions turning to face her.

“I’m here because I miss my pack, I miss my family.  I want to make it up to him,” She answers and no lie is heard in her heart.

“Why now?  Five months later after the damage?”

“I spoke with Isaac,” she responds.

“Isaac?”

Not even Derek had heard from the newest wolf, who had disappeared after founding out what he had become.

“I know you have to go,” Erica evades.

“I do,” Derek agrees.

“We’ll talk when you return?  I’ll watch over him,” she offers.

Derek looks at her, really takes his time to stare at his former beta.

“After,” Derek nods.

She smiles softly, “that’s all I ask.”

The door closes behind her and Derek leans down to press a soft kiss to Stiles’ fevered forehead.  The boy shuffles and buries deeper into the bed, Scott’s clothes clinging to his sweaty body.  The repercussions of the rape clearly making him have nightmares.  Derek’s chest constricts at the thought, he will have retribution.  The Argents have been hurting his family for long enough.  They even extended the damage to an innocent boy who had nothing to do with his family or their secret.  They’ve returned to complicate things, Derek would have accepted the hurt being solely aimed at him but it’s enough.

“I promise to come back,” Derek whispers.

Stiles settles in bed facing Derek, he breathes evenly as his beating heart returns to normal.

Derek doesn’t bother with the front door, he carefully slides the window open and leaps out.  He looks up at the sky and sees the first rays of sun come out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Derek takes action, Erica and Stiles get to know each other  
> Next Update: Soon...maybe a week...or month...or year...maybe 10 years...maybe I'm exaggerating  
> Thanks For Reading!!!!!!


	17. One Month

Chapter Seventeen: One Month

Boyd is already waiting for Derek outside when he leaps out the window of the McCall house and lands on the soft ground with a small grunt of minimal effort.  The beta is shifted as a massive dark chocolate wolf.  His bristle fur looks soft and his eyes shift gold as he sees his alpha.  Jackson does the same as he stands as a proud mixed wolf, patches of white, black, and copper cover the arrogant beast.  Derek nods in acknowledgement and then his eyes drift to three other wolves behind them.  They’re betas affiliated with the Hale pack but unlike his own pack, these betas aren’t from the one he considers family.  These are his men; the ones that help do most of the dirty work.  As alpha he’s grateful to have other pack members by his side, it doesn’t only show their strength but also their loyalty.

“Where’s Scott?” Derek asks when he steps closer.

“With Deaton,” Boyd answers now a built man rather than an intimidating wolf.

“Good,” he replies.

There’s certain things Scott is amazing at, like helping Erica and Laura in one of the most well-known supernatural clubs or stealing.  Usually medical equipment in case someone gets seriously hurt, and usually Melissa helps too.  The rest which entails killing, kidnapping, and much worse jobs are left for the rest of the pack, like Boyd.  It’s like a dynamic and it seems to work perfectly.

“I don’t want to do anything yet,” Derek continues.

Everyone holds back but it’s Jackson that says something once he shifts back.

“What do you mean?  They hurt Stiles,” He sneers.

Jackson doesn’t talk to Stiles, not by much.  But since he first met the kid, he’s been a bit tolerable and protective of the boy.  However, Derek knows that Jackson’s reply is more than the others understand.  Jackson is angry, enraged that not only did they hurt Stiles, who is like pack to him, but it was a direct attack on his alpha.

“We have to treat this like any other attack.  We keep an eye on them, learn their routine and schedule, then we hit them where it hurts most,” Boyd answers.

“But-“

“Jackson,” Derek sighs, “my priority it divided, please understand that.”

“Priority?” Jackson scoffs.

“Yes,” Derek hisses getting quite annoyed.

Jackson glares as Boyd places a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“I attacked Stiles, he’s my…” Derek breathes, his face scrunched as if in pain, “my mate.  I hurt him and the consequences hang over my head.  I need to make sure Stiles is safe, safe from them and…from me.  Nonetheless he’s mine to protect.”

Finally understanding, the beta’s stance becomes less defensive.

“What do we need?”

“We need a month, that’s all I ask for,” Derek answers.

The wolves nod and soon they all turn to leave.

Four weeks to learn their enemy’s footsteps.  Twenty-eight days to learn everything about them and strike where it hurts the most.  One month to get started on revenge.

* * *

 

Stiles stirs awake with a muffled groan, his face buried in the pillows half covered by the blanket warming his lithe body.  Everything hurts, but it isn’t like before.  Now it’s a dull ache as he shuffles in bed to turn over.  He comes face to face with Erica.  His eyes slowly slide back closed and his breathing evens as darkness threatens to overtake him again.

He knows she’s there but he can’t bring himself to care.  Whatever Deaton gave him is working wonders because even the nightmares are gone, although he knows this won’t last long.  He opens his eyes again to see her standing there with arms crossed and a raised brow.  He swallows thickly, his throat feeling dry and itchy.  A small smile twitches her lips as she takes a cup filled with water from the night stand.

Utterly exhausted, Stiles carefully rises to sit up with his back pressed against the headboard.  He takes a deep breath and gratefully alleviates Erica from the cup to drink greedily like a dying man from thirst.  He shudders.

“Thank you,” he coughs when he’s done.

She nods and Stiles finds it odd she hasn’t muttered a single word, or insulted him.

The blanket slides off his body revealing the shirt that clearly belongs to Scott.  He sighs as his eyes slide close again; he really should tell that puppy what actually happened.

“Want to watch a movie?”

That makes him snap to attention as he stares at Erica incredulously.

“Really?” He asks because seriously, she bullied him not three months ago.

“If you want, of course,” she smirks.

“Of course,” Stiles scoffs.

The boy debates whether he should trust her and his better judgment gets the best of him as he swings his legs over the bed.  He stands on shaky legs and Erica is immediately there to steady him.  She also grasps the blanket from the bed and places it over his shoulders.

“Thanks,” Stiles whispers.

“Welcome,” she replies.

She leads the way downstairs into the living room of the McCall home.

“Where’s Scott?” Stiles asks.

“With Dr. Deaton,” Erica says as she slumps on the couch and places her feet on the coffee table.

“And D-Derek?”

Erica remains quiet and watches as Stiles cautiously takes a seat beside her on the couch.  His grimace and small whimper doesn’t go unnoticed by the wolf.

“He’s…somewhere,” she shrugs.

The vague answer unsettles Stiles and he has to ask because he just can’t keep his mouth shut.

“He’s back right?  Or he is coming back right?  He hasn’t left?  He’s not leaving?”

Erica rolls her eyes at the rapid fired question while changing the channels on the TV, “you ask a lot of questions.”

“I just…I’m worried,” Stiles sighs.

Erica looks at the boy again, his profile showing nothing but sadness as he stares at his wringing hands on his lap.

“He’ll be fine,” she assures.

They settle for a moment as the introduction for the movie begins, Batman the Dark Knight.

“I love this movie,” Stiles whispers.

“You know Batman?” Erica questions intrigued, her posture quickly changes towards his as she sits cross legged.

“Do I?” Stiles scoffs, “he’s only the best hero out there!  I’ve seen the originals and recently the newer movies since Scott introduced me to technology!”

“You think so too?”

“Yeah, you don’t?”

“Not me,” She rolls her eyes, “but apparently everyone on the pack has terrible taste in movies or claim that Batman is no better than Superman!  Seriously, Batman is way better!”  Erica huffs, her excitement growing.

“What!  How can they say that?  Batman is…AMAZING!” Stiles agrees whole-heartedly as he bounces in his seat despite the aching.

The front door opens unexpectedly and Danny walks in a bit awkwardly with his phone in a hand pressed to his ear while the other carries a laptop.

“Want to join?” Stiles asks excited.

“Sure…?” Danny agrees with a confused smile.

“Great, go make popcorn,” Erica smirks.

Danny’s mouth hangs open and he quickly hangs up the phone to go do as told with a shake of his head.

“Batman nerds,” he mutters under his breath.

“Hey! We heard that!” Stiles yells.

Danny hears Erica muffle a laugh and he’s starting to feel freaked out.  Erica is usually anything but nice.  Especially to him despite both being in the same pack.  He’s honestly surprised she hasn’t ripped Stiles’ throat out, with her teeth.

The giddiness the two feel, and the confusion inside Danny, don’t last long when a knock sounds on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Stiles smiles cheekily.

“Maybe you should be resting,” Erica suggests.

“I’m fine,” Stiles assures.

Erica bites her lips, the stranger’s heart beat from the other side of the door is rapid and she feels panic.  What if it’s hunters?

Before Erica can voice her concern Stiles is gone, out of view as he goes open the door.

Stiles pulls the wooden door and barely contains his gasp when he sees Isaac before him.  Quickly shutting the door behind him, he pulls the other boy aside and wraps the blanket that he was using around Isaac, much like Erica did.

“What happened?” Stiles hisses concerned.

Isaac looks at him through tear filled eyes and lets the other pull him into a hug.

“What happened Isaac?” He repeats softly.

Isaac falls to his knees bringing Stiles with him so they’re both on the wet ground covered in mud.

“My dad,” he croaks.

Stiles’ eyes begin to sting with his own tears and he quickly helps the boy up.

“Isaac?”

“H-He knows,” he chokes.

“Knows what?” Stiles pries gently.

“He knows I’m a werewolf,” Isaac chokes.

And it’s like a punch to the stomach as Stiles stares at him shocked.

“Stiles?”

 _Danny_ , Stiles recognizes as the voice floats from inside.

He hauls the distraught wolf and drags him inside the McCall house.

Erica is on her feet when she sees them both and Danny is already grabbing his phone.  Before he can dial Stiles stops him with a soft, “don’t.”

Danny bites his lip but nods nonetheless and follows them upstairs.

“Wolves? Anyone know anything about them?” Stiles questions as he flails about.

“More than half of the pack are wolves, except for Danny,” Erica informs.

Danny waves his hand a bit.

“Okay…properties?”

“Chemically or physically?” Erica jokes.

Stiles narrows his eyes until Danny answers.

“They usually heal themselves, and usually faster than…this.”

“Thank you Danny,” Stiles smiles but it falters when he turns to face Isaac, “then why isn’t he healing?”

“I don’t…it could be wolfs bane,” Danny answers.

Stiles shudders as his thoughts stray to wolfs bane, that disgusting poison that’s only used to hurt people.  Dr. Deaton had explained it along with the different types and the effects.

“Dr. Deaton left some salve for…cuts and,” Stiles swallows.

Danny and Erica nod in understanding both knowing what happened between their Alpha and the boy.

“I’ll go get it,” Erica offers.

In the meantime, Stiles helps Isaac strip to nothing but his boxers seeing as his clothes were soaked and dirty.  Danny digs through Scott’s closet and retrieves a t-shirt and sweats for Isaac.

“Maybe you should change too?” Danny says as he looks at Stiles’ own muddied pair of sweat pants.

The boy shakes his head no, “can you go get some ice?  These don’t look healed to me.”

Danny turns to look at the shivering wolf before them and he holds back a shocked gasp.  There are bruises covering his entire body varying from healing stages but more seem newer, recent.

Erica having heard, brings ice and the salve.

“Here,” she says handing everything to Stiles.

Stiles places the few ice bags Erica homemade on the worst looking bruises.  Isaac whines low in his throat at the pain and Erica hushes him while she pets his curly hair, knowing how important it is to feel pack, family, safety, love.

As the ice gradually turns into liquid, Stiles helps Isaac change into the fresh clothes Danny got.  When the struggle is done, he carefully lays the wolf on the bed and covers him with the blanket.

“Does he have a fever? I don’t know how to check or do anything,” Stiles says borderline panicked.

Danny helps and checks Isaac’s temperature.

“No, he’s probably shivering from the rain,” Danny replies.

Stiles slumps on the end of the bed in relief, his body feeling heavy.

“Maybe you should rest,” Danny says.

Erica agrees with a nod but she doesn’t say anything.  She can’t help but think this is her fault.  She had seen the boy a few days ago, not once suspecting Isaac to be so profoundly hurt.  She should’ve known, should’ve noticed that something was wrong.  She can only resort to blaming herself as she watches Isaac whimper and whine in his fitful sleep.

The window soon opens to reveal Derek panting and sweating, the sky already dark outside.  Stiles barely looks at him before he passes out from the exertion and the exhaustion engulfing his body.


	18. Start Again

Chapter Eighteen: Start Again

Derek sits beside the bed currently occupied by a sleeping Stiles. His back is pressed to the smooth cherry wood of the small night table, a hue of dark red staining it into a blend. He's waiting for the boy to wake up so they can talk, so he can explain. His patience is wearing thin as his head collides with his night stand in a dull rhythmic thud.

Stiles furrows his brow at the sudden sound echoing insistently in his ears. He's so tired but the thud grows louder, threatening to bring him back to consciousness. His head pokes out from under the blanket and his eyes flutter open. The edge of his droopy eyes are red from sleep, his mouth dry and his body feeling heavy. He turns towards the sound that woke him and finds a slumped figure beside the bed.

"Derek," he croaks weakly.

Derek immediately stops and faces the soft voice that called his name. He sees Stiles on his side looking at him through half lidded eyes and a small smile.

"Hey," he whispers softly.

"Hi," Stiles slightly waves.

Derek rises to his feet and sits beside Stiles, he can't help himself and he reaches to brush his hand over the flushed skin before him. Just as his fingers touch the soft cheek Stiles flinches away. His eyes widen at the reaction his body just took by a simple touch from Derek. The wolf takes his hand back as if burned and he doesn't know what to do when the boy's eyes well with tears.

"Derek," Stiles whimpers, his bottom lip trembling.

Derek stands, "I-I'm sorry."

Stiles reaches with his hand to stop Derek from leaving even as his body is wracked with fear.

"N-No, please don't go," he begs.

"I'm sorry Stiles," Derek sighs.

"I-I don't care. I mean I do but I don't? I just don't appreciate that you d-didn't tell me. Why didn't you?"

"Because I was afraid that you'd be scared of me for being a monster like you probably do now," Derek answers honestly.

Stiles takes a deep breath and places a clammy hand on Derek's stubbled cheek, "I'm not scared."

Derek laughs, it's a nasty sound that makes Stiles shiver.

"Derek," Stiles begs.

"Don't lie, I heard your heart stutter," Derek glares.

Stiles sits up and the tears spill over.

"I don't. I'm hurt beyond repair but I can't hate you, I'm not scared. I don't know what's happening to my body but I know I belong to you. I hate the fact that I'm so helpless and the way I feel vulnerable but before all this I...I loved you, I still do," He whispers with a sniffle.

Derek is shocked, he can't describe what he feels about the admission.

"It's not love," he settles on.

Stiles looks at him in disbelief.

"You're too young to know what love is," the older male explains.

Stiles doesn't want to argue, he's not ready for any of this and yet he leans forward and presses a kiss to Derek's soft lips. He wants to know, needs to understand what's going on inside of him. Derek, despite his efforts, frames Stiles' face and pulls him just a bit closer. The kiss deepens and Derek's control slips as he nips at the soft flesh of the plump lips. When he realizes what's happening he breaks the kiss abruptly.

Stiles' chest is heaving and his heart is racing when he looks at the wolf that hurt him. Derek tries to run, to hide from the disgust, hurt and hate that will surely appear on the boy's face now that he's seen the monster. Stiles stops breathing but not from fear. Not anymore.

"Derek," he says softly.

Derek flinches.

"You're...amazing," the awe is audible even to his human ears.

Derek blinks, the electric blue fading to forest green and the fur recedes.

"I'm not afraid Derek, I may be young but... my body belongs to you. I don't know what's happening to me but I don't blame you. If anyone is to blame it's me, I should've known something was wrong," he mumbles ashamed.

"It wasn't your fault. I should've had more control-"

"But you couldn't!"

"Stiles," Derek begins.

"I'm sorry Derek just don't... Don't push me away, please, " the boy begs.

Derek's arms wrap around Stiles and holds him close murmuring soft nothings in the boy's ear until he relaxes.

"Tell me," he mumbles sleepy.

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me about the pack, your family. How you're...you," he smiles slightly.

Derek swallows thickly, no one has ever been truly interested in him. Humans usually run in fear or try to do their worst. Kate Argent is a perfect example of that. The only person who really cared was...Paige, but she didn't know what he was not until...

He shakes his head furiously, he has to stop thinking about the past. He can't let it dictate his life now, maybe it'll be different.

"I'm the alpha of the Hale Pack, I wasn't destined to be alpha, it simply happened," Derek explains.

"What do you mean?" Stiles yawns.

Derek smiles, "Scott is a beta-"

"Kind of pissed my best friend didn't tell me," the boy comments disgruntled.

"I told him not to. Even if he wanted, he couldn't disobey, it's in our nature. However, what's important is how he came to be a wolf," Derek replies.

"I thought it was important how you came to be an alpha," Stiles retorts.

"It's tied together. There are born wolves and made wolves."

"Made wolves?"

"Bitten, or in some cases scratched. After that is a hierarchy. Alpha, beta, omega."

"What are they? Each level, I kind of figured what an alpha is," he smiles.

"Beta is the majority of each pack. There can only ever be one alpha, or an alpha pair which means mates. An omega is a rogue wolf kicked out from a pack or a runaway. They usually die," Derek shrugs.

Stiles shudders and Derek's arms tighten around him.

"Then you...?"

"I'm getting there," Derek smirks, "to be an alpha, you're either born one, it's passed down from parent to oldest child after death or you kill an alpha."

"Which are you?"

Derek takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to steel his nerves. He lets the red bleed into his eyes as he opens them slowly to stare at Stiles.

"I killed an alpha."

Stiles heart skips a beat and he's tempted to pull away from Derek but the alpha isn't done.

"The same alpha that attacked Scott and killed many humans."

Stiles' eyes widen and a stupid smile appears, "so you're like Batman?"

Derek lifts an amused eyebrow and let's out a chuckle, "I don't think so."

"Y-You don't kill anymore, right?"

The mirth quickly seeps out of Derek, "I do."

"Why?"

"Because it's my job. Each person in the pack has their own job, most of it is illegal. It's how we grew up, how we live. We fight and kill and do the dirty job. It's my life," Derek responds.

"You shouldn't kill or hurt anyone, it's wrong-"

"I won't change who I am. You knew the moment you read the papers your father left you. He knew about my dad, you think he wasn't aware?"

"He was the Sheriff at some point! He wouldn't have let a-a-"

"A what Stiles?" Derek glares.

"A _criminal_ running about," Stiles mumbles.

"They were best friends until he disappeared taking you with him."

"I don't want to think about it. I don't wanna remember," he whimpers holding his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry I reminded you," Derek says softly.

"I don't want to go back to the loft...I don't think I can," Stiles admits brokenly.

"We won't. We'll start again. Like it should have been, you'll meet the pack and get to really know them. I'll find an apartment with three bedro-"

"I want to sleep with you," Stiles intervenes quickly, "I don't want to be alone, I want to learn how to trust you again because despite everything I can't completely trust you and I'm sorry. But I want to learn how to, I want my body to trust you again. I want my heart to belong to you but, you're right, maybe I am afraid but not because of what happened or what you are. I think I'm afraid of losing you after learning so much, just, please?"

"Just as long as you'll have me," Derek answers as he wipes away the stray tears and brushes Stiles' fringe to the side before pressing a chaste kiss to the plump lips.

Stiles' cheeks turn a soft pink, the light blush and disheveled hair makes Derek's wolf preen. His mate is accepting him even after causing so much damage.

"Let me teach you how to love," Derek mutters against the pale expanse of Stiles' neck.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's neck, his hands tangling in the dark soft hair and fingers threading lightly.

"Okay, just give me some time," he agrees, "and don't let me fall."

"I'll never let you fall."


	19. We're Pack

Chapter Nineteen: We're Pack

Derek stands in the doorway silently watching as Scott wrings a cloth from what he assumes is cold water before placing it on Isaac’s feverish forehead.  The curly haired boy groans and shifts but doesn’t wake up, clearly exhausted if the bags under his eyes are anything to go by.  The alpha knows Scott is aware of his presence, neither trying to hint at it though.  It isn’t until the boy finally sighs as he dabs the sheen of perspiration of the younger wolf’s face.

“Why would someone do this?”

Derek, who had his arms crossed over his chest, steps forward and approaches the bed.

“It’s a difficult question to answer,” Derek offers as a meager reply.

“But this is his son!” Scott argues.

“Why did your dad leave?”  The alpha questions gently.

Scott freezes and finally turns to face him with wide hurt eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Derek assures, “but in Isaac’s case his dad found out about what he is.  To him, Isaac probably isn’t his son, just a monster.”

“That’s what he said,” a weak croak startles them.

Both wolves turn to look at the lump in the bed curled up on his side.

“He freaked out and called me a monster,” Isaac whispers.

Derek sits beside him and ruffles his hair.  Isaac slowly sits up and lets the alpha comfort him.  He doesn’t deserve the care shown by the alpha he admittedly feared and ran away from, which also includes the pack.  He is a coward and nothing but a worthless–

“Stop!” Derek growls.

Isaac tenses and feels unshed tears slowly run down his pale cheeks.

“I can practically feel your self-loathing,” he says more softly as he wipes the tears away.

“You shouldn’t feel like you’re worthless,” Scott adds quietly.

Isaac looks at him as he bites his lip and takes shallows breaths.

“What happened?” The alpha demands gently trying not to startle the frightened boy.

Isaac takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

* * *

 

_Just a few more hours, he thinks as he taps the top of the wooden rickety desk with his pencil._

_It’s been three months since finding out werewolves actually exist.  He never thought that something so absurd was real aside from in fairy-tales.  However, he’s one of those fairy-tale creatures.  He’s terrified of himself and he decided to run away.  Proving what his dad has always said about him and it not like the pack tried to contact him or anything.  It also proved he was nothing but worthless and the only reason he was turned was to save his life from death.  He should’ve known he wasn’t good enough._

_Just as the thoughts turn a bit more unpleasant, the bell rings.  It hurts his ears but he bears through with gritted teeth as he grabs his belonging and walks out the class room, just a few more hours._

_He thinks he’s scot-free, until Erica Reyes, one of the former betas approaches him._

_“Why aren’t you in the pack?” She asks._

_He shrugs._

_“I know I’m not the nicest–”_

_“No you probably aren’t and most people wouldn’t care but you don’t know anything about the people you’ve hurt emotionally or physically.  I thought pack was supposed to be family,” Isaac agrees, “I don’t know what happened to you but you have a family, someone who adores you… isn’t that enough?  Wouldn’t you like someone else to find the happiness that you managed to have?”_

_Somehow after that awkward encounter, he survives another day at school; he just has to survive another day at home.  He misses Stiles and Scott because both genuinely cared for him, something he never got to experience before._

_Home, has never been a safe haven but it’s been three months of no screaming, hardly any beatings aside the occasional one, and no small spaces.  He shudders as he trudges upstairs to his room only to throw his bag atop the clean made bed.  After a quick shower, Isaac made his way into the kitchen to make dinner which is when his dad comes home from work._

_“How was work?” He asks timidly._

_He has always been intimidated by the man, and despite being a wolf, that hasn’t changed now.  The man only grunts in reply before heading upstairs.  Isaac manages a sigh of relief and he continues making diner and arranging the table to eat._

_It isn’t until they’re seated that Isaac notices something if off.  His dad is quiet but he glances his way with a glare from time to time.  It irks Isaac that he doesn’t know what’s going on but he has a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach._

_“I got called in by your English teacher,” the older male finally converses._

_Isaac tenses, Oh._

_“What did he say?” Isaac questions in a small feeble voice._

_His dad puts his fork down and he stands.  Isaac quickly scurries away but only manages to reach the opposite wall before his dad throws the empty vase next to his head.  The young wolf looks up in utter horror, he’s sure his dad was really aiming for his head and if it weren’t for his immediate reflex it would’ve smashed into his head._

_He hardly felt the few shards penetrating his skin, piercing it so easily._

_“You know what he said?  Want to fucking know?  He said you have D- in his class!”_

_“Dad I can explain!  We’re only half way through I can bring it up!”  Isaac pleads._

_His dad approaches him grasping the fork on his way.  Isaac swallows thickly and he screams when it’s plunged into his thigh._

_“I don’t care!” He spits and lands a punch on Isaac’s face, the glass shards digging deeper into his cheek._

_It’s only when he pulls away to drag Isaac to the basement that his eyes widen in shock.  Before his eyes, the broken skin caused by the shards begins to heal at an impressive rate.  Isaac feels panic well inside his chest and he wolf’s out._

* * *

 

“You couldn’t help it,” Derek reasons.

"And it also doesn't explain why he hasn't healed completely," Scott adds with his brows furrowed.

"We'll deal with it as we go, I'll call Deaton later and arrange everything.  For now you'll stay with us, because we're pack, you're pack," Derek promises.

Isaac sniffles and a knock on the door startles the three wolves.

“I’m sorry,” Comes a mumbled voice.

Stiles shuffles inside the room and immediately goes to Derek’s side.  He momentarily stops and instead reaches out to Isaac and holds him close.

“I told Derek to adopt you, he didn’t listen,” Stiles says.

Isaac returns the hugs and buries his face in the crook of the human boy’s neck.  Derek can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips.  Scott soon joins them on the bed feeling left out.  Derek’s arm is wrapped around Stiles and Isaac rests his head on Stiles’ chest.  Scott sprawls across the remaining of the bed and places his head on Derek’s thigh, his arm resting on Stiles lap.  They fall asleep like that, tangled in limbs like a puppy pile, Stiles smiles amused in his sleep.  Derek only opens his eyes a few hours later when he hears more shuffling into the room.  They’re soon joined by the other betas all arranging in and around the puppy pile.  Derek doesn’t fall asleep.  Not when he can feel his phone vibrate against his unoccupied thigh, hidden inside his pocket.


	20. Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently being translated into Chinese! Thanks to Claudiayeh! I'll post a link as soon as I can for anyone interested. Enjoy.

Chapter Twenty:  Sickness

A soft rap against the plastic door barely managed to startle the poor teen from his bout of sickness.  He can just hear the knob being rattled rather violently through the sounds of his constant gagging.  His stomach is churning and he can’t help but vomit into the porcelain throne once again.  His forehead feels feverish and his skin is clammy as he breaks into a cold sweat.

“Stiles?”

Stiles groans and whimpers when he tries to move but only results in his unsettled stomach to protest making him lurch forward.  Sweaty hands grasp the sides of the bowl as he practically dry heaves, nothing left for his stomach to expel.  Breathing harshly, Stiles slowly and cautiously sits on the tiled floor.  He desperately wants to rest his head on the cool surface of the toilet but the feet standing beneath the locked stall door reminds him that it’s probably unsanitary.

“Stiles!”  The urgency in the voice grows tenfold.

The boy knows he should answer but he feels exhausted, his body aching all over and his belly cramping.  He just manages to bite off a groan of utter agony as his head pounds.  In an attempt to calm down, Stiles takes a deep breath and tries to decipher what the hell is going on with his body.

“Scott?”  He croaks, he sounds just on the borderline of breaking down.

“Buddy, open the door,” Scott orders.

The door is shaken but Scott doesn’t so much as rattle the knob impatiently.  It is school property and he doesn’t want to get his alpha or his mom into any unnecessary problems.  However, his best friend is on the other side practically vomiting his insides into the toilet.   He tries not to panic and think the maybe Stiles is dying, because he’s not, but if by some bad luck he is, Scott has faith Derek will change him immediately, which is partly the reason he wants Stiles to open the door.

Scott isn’t new at being a werewolf but he still has trouble with his heightened abilities.  Thus meaning he can’t detect if Stiles has some deadly disease or if it’s just the nausea.  He should really call Deaton.  Just as the thought cross his mind Stiles speaks again.

“Please get Derek,” he whimpers.

Scott’s heart stops.

His mom had… very gently and briefly, explained what exactly happened six weeks ago.  He wasn’t all that pleased and nearly attacked his own alpha which would have been a terrible mistake.  If it weren’t for Stiles intervening he would have tried to bite off his alpha’s head.  Thank the stars he was restrained, although it still doesn’t mean he’s on speaking terms with Derek, because he’s not.

Stiles, on the other hand, craves the older male’s touch which perplexes the young wolf to no end.  He somewhat understands but can’t really explain why they aren’t in speaking terms either.  It’s like they’re avoiding each other like the plague.

“He’s on his way,” Scott assures as he turns off his phone.

His damn alpha hadn’t answered, the call inevitably leading to voicemail.

“Stiles can you please open the door?”  He begs.

Stiles shakes his head weakly knowing that despite the silence Scott would understand, and he does.

Scott slides down the stall door; he had thankfully locked the main door and scribbled a quick “Out of Order” sign pasting it with two pieces of tape.  He knows the gap between the door and the floor is too small so he simply places his hand through.  Stiles smiles at the offered support and takes it as he closes his eyes in some relief.

“He’s coming,” Scott whispers reassuringly trying to convince himself.

Whether Derek really got the message is unknown but he hopes his alpha knows when his mate is in trouble.  Maybe since they probably haven’t discussed everything Stiles had gotten sick.  However, he shouldn’t have been this ill for close to two weeks.  Just thinking about it makes Scott cringe and the worry spikes before molding into agitation.

“How you holding on bud?”

Stiles’ head lolls to the side but his body jolts at the sudden question.  The hand not holding onto Scott’s gently cups his stomach, just below his navel.

“I feel tired,” he mumbles drained.

“You should open the door, I can take you to Deaton,” Scott suggests.

“No. Just want Der’k,” Stiles replies stubbornly.

His eyes droop close and his hand goes slack in Scott’s.  The other teen panics as he hears his best friend’s heart slow down thinking the worst.

“Scott? Stiles?”

Scott turns to face the door at the other side of the bathroom.  The voice is muffled but he can clearly hear Isaac on the other side.  Quickly, Scott scrambles from the floor to the door.  He debates whether he should open it or not but decides to go through with it.  Isaac is taken by surprise with his hand midair ready to knock on the door once again when it’s yanked open.  Scott’s eyes dart and his face is drawn in worry.

“Stiles?”

Scott parts way and lets the other boy inside but doesn’t answer his question.  Immediately Isaac knows why.  The smell of bile assaults his sensitive nose, Stiles having been too weak couldn’t flush.

“He’s sick again,” Isaac answers his own question.

Scott nods and gives him a desperate look.

Isaac walks further inside and, without having to look beneath each stall, approaches the one Stiles is locked inside of.  He sits down cross legged and leans his head against the cool surface of the bumpy door.  Where Scott is consumed in panic, Isaac can detect that Stiles merely fell asleep.  He tells the other boy as such.

“Why is this happening?!” Scott growls frustrated.

Isaac shrugs but wants more than anything to know what is going on with his friend.

* * *

 

A knock, Derek sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose.  He can feel the beginning of a headache blossoming behind his moss green eyes.  He doesn’t want to see anyone, knowing that the fucking problem hasn’t been solved yet.  He had wanted to end this stupidity within a month but it has been overdue for two damn weeks.

“Come in,” he gruffly says.

The door opens to reveal Jackson and Boyd who tentatively approach the mahogany desk.  Each take a seat in front of the paper cluttered desk, knowing full well how agitated their alpha is right now, especially since Stiles has started to avoid him recently.  He wants to believe that this isn’t going to turn out with Stiles leaving and breaking his promise but he knows better than to trust people, which is why he is slowly building a wall around himself made of anger.  He doesn’t need more disappointment from his betas right now.

“We got him,” Jackson begins rather excitedly.

This captivates Derek’s attention and he leans forward with narrowed eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Very,” Boyd confirms.

Derek stands from his seat, his phone long forgotten on his desk, “then let’s go.”

Jackson and Boyd follow their alpha through the intricate halls of the Hale house leading toward the basement.  Just before they arrive inside the room, Derek pauses when his fingers find the light switch.  He’s suddenly drowned in the memory of his first encounter with his mate, the one that is so painfully ignoring him.

The room is suddenly flooded in blinding light revealing a man tied to a chair, blindfolded.  Derek smirks, the beast gleeful that it’s finally going to get its revenge.  Like stalking prey, Derek strides to the struggling man.  He tsks at how withered the old bastard has gotten after so little time.

His claws make an appearance as he tears off the blindfold, consequentially scratching the man causing beads of red to drip down.  The man squints against the bright light but knows exactly who is in front of him.  His lips curl into a nasty snarl as he hisses, “Hale.”

Derek is just about to retort when he hears his phone vibrating against the wooden desk they have just abandoned ten minutes ago.  He gives Jackson a pointed stare and the beta disappears to retrieve the device but not before it goes to voicemail, he curses.

“Boyd would you please?” Derek asks kindly.

The struggling man seizes his futile attempts to free himself; no amount of training can help him escape.  Not when he’s tied in the den of wolves.

“Where’s Kate Argent?” Derek questions as Boyd passes him a small rusty saw.

“As if I’ll tell a freak like you,” the man growls tauntingly.

Derek rolls his eyes and presses the blade to his neck, he won’t do it.  They both know he won’t, but it doesn’t stop Derek from inflicting pain.  He digs it just a bit until a small stream of blood joins the drying drip.

Jackson returns somewhat breathless but the urgency in his eyes warns Derek that he should take the phone.  He lets go of the saw and takes his phone, quickly turning it on and replaying the message left not mere minutes ago.  It’s Scott.  Stiles isn’t doing well.

He’ll never admit the spike in his heart when he hears Scott’s panicked voice tell him Stiles is nearly unconscious after being repeatedly sick but he can’t get to him while Stiles is repeatedly calling his name.  The saw clatters as it falls on the floor and he gives Boyd orders to make sure their _guest_ is settled before he leaves in a hurry.  Neither beta follows him but they do as ordered.

Derek is breathless by the time he reaches the school and he sneaks through the back.  He knows his pack will feel him nearby but his main priority is his mate.  His scent is weak in the maze of halls but he finds the trio in the bathroom near the cafeteria.

“What happened?” Derek demands.

Scott and Isaac move away from the stall wall as their alpha approaches them.  He looks beyond pissed but his mate is just on the other side.

“Der’k?”

“Stiles, what’s wrong?”  He questions concerned.

Stiles, upon hearing his mate’s voice, rises on trembling legs and barely manages to unlatch the lock.  As soon as it’s off, the door is yanked open.  In relief and exhaustion Stiles slumps into his mate’s awaiting arms, burying his face in Derek’s warm broad chest.  Arms wrap around his waist as he’s picked up and carried out, he vaguely hears the toilet being flushed and he grimaces.

“I’m taking you to Deaton’s,” Derek says firmly.

The fight Stiles could have put up quickly seeps from his mind and body as he snuggles in Derek’s embrace.  It’s only then that Derek’s worry increases, knowing full well how stubborn Stiles can be.  Isaac follows behind but Scott remains rooted to his spot indecisive.  He opts to stay in school and drop by later.  Isaac is clearly excused since Deaton is his therapist, figuring out that the reason why he stopped healing had to do with his mentality and the fact that his wolf was broken.

Scott hopes that if Deaton was able to help Isaac then he should heal Stiles as well.

Derek continues walking, the inkling of bad vibes between him and Scott are momentarily put aside although he knows as alpha that they’ll have to talk about it.

Deaton is already waiting for them when they arrive in less than fifteen minutes, Derek might have broken a few laws.  Isaac, who had been in the back attending to Stiles, opens the door and helps his alpha.

It isn’t until two hours later, way beyond the end of school, that Deaton appears behind his office door.  He looks at Derek, the only remaining since Isaac had to inform the others what was going on.

“I think we should talk Alpha Hale,” Deaton begins.

Derek narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Tell me, what’s going on?”  He demands, full aware that the closed sign on the front will deter any costumer from the vet’s office.

“It’s best if we talk in my office,” Deaton sighs.

Derek doesn’t budge, in fact he stands firm.

“Alright, if you insist I’ll try my best to explain what’s going on with Mr. Stilinski.”

“Please do,” Derek agrees as his patience wears thin.

“Before the…incident, shall we say? Stiles had been living with you for some time.  Either you realized something was off and ignored it but you knew that Stiles is your mate correct?”

The alpha manages a weak nod; he had known but had tried desperately to deny it.

“His anatomy was somewhat changed from those five months,” Deaton continues.

“What do you mean his anatomy was changed?”

“An alpha produces a hormone when they find their mate, depending on the situation it changes their mate’s anatomy into something more… fitting to carry the next heir,” the vet explains nonchalantly.

“Is that what Stiles is feeling?  He’s suffering from the repercussions of his body changing?” Derek asks with a raised brow.

“Not so much as suffering no, because he’s not supposed to feel or even know about his body changing.  The reason why he’s been feeling unwell is because he’s already with child,” Deaton replies calmly.

Derek’s eyes grow wide and he takes a step back.  He wants to bolt from the doctor’s office but he knows he can’t.  His wolf won’t allow him to cower.  This is his mate they’re talking about.  He takes a deep calming breath to try and stop the building nerves.

“D-Does he…?”

“Does he know?  Yes, which is part of the reason why it took so long to come out and inform you,” Deaton nods.

The walls are sound proof which is also the reason why Derek wouldn’t have known but as he stands there, the pieces fall together.

A soft sniffle from the doorway startles both men and Derek can see Stiles’ holding onto the frame as he stands supporting his weight.  The alpha strides to his mate’s side and lets him lean on him instead.  He can’t believe this is actually happening.  He hadn’t figured it out, he hadn’t even known his mate had been ill for the last two weeks until after Isaac confirmed it not so long ago today.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles whimpers.

Derek’s arm tightens, although it’s not so that it will hurt their baby.  Fuck, it sounds so weird.  How hadn’t he known about this?

“The situation you said was incase an alpha’s mate was male right?”

Deaton nods again.

Stiles’ clings to him afraid that the man he’s slowly falling for will suddenly leave him and disappear.

“Okay…I need to…I need a-”

“Not in doors or around pregnant people,” Deaton warns with a glare.

Derek agrees but he can’t bear to leave his _pregnant_ mate alone.  Instead he leads the younger male into the room designated for his pack, and now Stiles.  He carefully helps his mate on the comfortable hospital bed.  He’s just about to go and grab that desperate smoke when a clammy hand stops him.  Pleading hazel eyes melt him and he slips inside the bed, his arms around Stiles holding him tight.

“Please don’t go,” the boy sniffles.

“I’m not going anywhere.”


	21. I Think...

Chapter Twenty-One: I Think...

Derek has his arm around the younger boy and helps him slide into the camaro's passenger seat. Stiles, tiredly, does as told and ducks inside. He smiles when the big bad alpha carefully places the seat belt. Just before the door closes he grasps Derek’s hand causing the wolf to pause.  
With a mischievous smile Stiles asks Derek to lean in and obediently he does. 

"Thank you," Stiles whispers as he presses a small kiss on Derek’s cheek.

Derek returns the favor with a peck on the boy’s forehead before slamming the door closed and heading around to the driver's side.

The ride back to the Hale manor is quiet but comfortable. Stiles is leaning back with a hand on his stomach as he stares out the window at the countless of trees passing by. His head is pressed against the cool glass window and he closes his eyes.

Derek smiles as he notices this from his peripheral vision. It makes the alpha side of him proud and protective of his mate and cub.

Stiles had been napping for ten minutes when he hears Derek curse under his breath. It makes the smaller male flutter his eyes open until he's facing Derek.

"Der?" He questions with a hoarse voice.

"Someone's following us," he informs and rather belatedly does he realize he shouldn’t have told Stiles.

"What?" Stiles twists in his seat to try and look through the back window.

Derek tsks because he recognizes that car.

"Is it her?" Stiles asks panicked.

"Take a deep breath Stiles," Derek replies.

He presses the brake and slowly pulls over. Stiles' heartbeat skyrockets and Derek is forced to take his hand in reassurance. 

"Calm down it isn't good for either of you," Derek reminds.

"Then why did you stop? If it's her we have to leave! Derek please let's go, start the car!"

Derek holds Stiles warm pale face in his callous hands as he presses a chaste kiss to trembling lips. Stiles melts at the gesture and his heart slowly returns to normal.

"It's not her and if it were I'd always protect you," Derek whispers soothing.

"Promise?"

"Promise," he agrees.

They both hear a car door close behind them making them break contact. On cue Derek rolls down the window and patiently waits for the person to arrive. Stiles shifts uncomfortably in his seat and his grip on Derek’s hand tightens.

A man in his late forties, early fifties, appears with a frown and piercing blue eyes. It makes Stiles recoil in his seat and hold his belly protectively.

"Hale," he greets.

"Argent," Derek nods in acknowledgement. 

"I know you have him, personally I don't want to get involved but Kate is planning something rather insidious," the man begins.

"This has nothing to do with that old man right?"

"She could care less about him."

"What exactly does she want then?"

"Isn't it simple?"

Derek narrows his eyes at the man but doesn’t answer.

"You, she wants you and preferably ripped apart into pieces," he sighs.

The mere thought makes Stiles sick and he rips his hand away from Derek’s before opening the door and heaving.

"Fuck," Derek hisses as he takes off his seatbelt.

The man backs away when Derek opens the door and hurries to the passenger side.

"It isn’t a great time as you can see Chris," Derek growls.

Chris raises his hands in the air and watches silent yet concerned.

"Who is he?"

"My mate," Derek answers but refrains from telling him about their baby.

"You should consider sending him away, somewhere safe where he can be protected," Chris suggests.

Derek’s anger spikes and he tries hard not to rip off the passenger door. Stiles is heaving and tears stream down his flushed cheeks. Swallowing thickly Derek holds his mate as best he can while soothing him.

"I can't," Derek replies.

"Then you have to be prepared, she'll see the boy as an obstacle and try to-"

"If she even considers hurting either of them I will rip out her throat and maul her to death," Derek interrupts infuriated.

Chris is shocked beyond words, Derek has always been passive even for being the alpha of a mafia. He has never seen the man this furious and simply at the thought of something happening to the boy in his arms. Chris can't help the small smile that slowly appears.

"You finally found someone to ground you to anchor you," he chuckles amused.

Derek deflates almost immediately when Stiles stops with his bout of morning sickness.

"I always had an anchor," Derek replies.

"Not a very good one, now you have something to fight for. Kate was a mistake but I'm confident you can stop her ludicrous ideas," Chris assures just before leaving.

Derek rocks Stiles back and forth, who is currently sobbing to his heart's content. He takes a deep shuddering breath as he buries his face in his alpha’s broad chest. Derek’s hold tightens and he whispers sweet words into Stiles' ear.

When the boy is calm enough Derek straps him in again. Stiles, being depleted of energy, immediately falls asleep. The alpha can't help but wipe away the remaining tears with his thumb before returning to his side.

Silently he starts the car and debates on what Chris said. He knows the hunter is right. Kate is insane and an obsessed psychopath that will go to great lengths in order to get to him, she proved it once before. Stiles is a liability and so is their cub but he can't force himself to let them go. He almost feels relieved when the manor comes into view.

Carefully Derek picks Stiles up and carries him inside. The entire pack, including the former alphas, are waiting for them in the living room. His mother immediately stands from her seat and approaches her son, her eyes softening when she sees Stiles curled up in his arms.

"How is he?" She asks while moving the soft fringe away from his sleeping face.

"Exhausted," Derek answers.

"What did Chris say?" His father inquires.

At this Derek sighs, "he just wanted to warn me about Kate."

Theodore hums and stands beside his wife.

"What has Gerard revealed so far?"

Boyd and Jackson answer reluctantly, "nothing so far."

"And he won't," Derek snarls.

Stiles huffs and rubs his cheek against Derek’s shirt trying to find and give comfort unconsciously.

Scott is the next person who slowly approaches the pair.

"Is he really, you know... pregnant?"

The mention of Stiles and the unexpected pregnancy places a soft smile of Derek’s face, his features instantly relaxing.

"Yeah," he answers.

The entire pack can feel the sudden change in their alpha and even Stiles, who was sleeping rather tense, now relaxes.

"I'm going to be an uncle!"

"I call godmother!" Erica exclaims.

The lively chattering throughout the room wakes Stiles up. He takes a deep breath before looking up at Derek with a small shy smile. Derek returns it and carefully places him down on his feet. After spending an entire day and night at Deaton’s, Stiles is glad to finally be back with the pack.

He nearly has a heart attack when Laura gives him a tight hug followed by Cora and the rest of the pack, even Jackson.

He blushes at the attention given and remains glued to Derek’s side for the rest of the day until he truly gets too tired and nearly falls asleep on the couch. Derek gladly takes him upstairs to their shared room and helps him change into his flannel pj bottoms.

Stiles shakes his head when Derek offers his usual sleeping grey tee. He's currently sitting on the bed and impatiently waiting for Derek to join him. Derek rolls his eyes but nonetheless gets into bed after stripping down to his boxers. Although childish, after sleeping with Derek in the small clinic room, Stiles can't seem to fall asleep without the alpha by his side.

Derek winds his arms around Stiles and watches amused as he uses his chest as a pillow.

"Really?" Derek asks.

"If you must know, you're very comfortable," Stiles replies in his matter of fact voice.

"Can I at least get a kiss for my service?"

"Hmm, perhaps we can work something out," he nods thoughtfully.

Derek smirks when he steals a kiss from an unsuspecting Stiles who pouts and hits his chest.

"I think I'm falling in love," he whispers when the room is dark and no other sound can be heard.

"I think I'm already in love," Derek replies as he kisses the top of Stiles' mop of hair.

"I'm glad," Stiles smiles.

"Yeah?"

"Hmhm."

"Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Stiles finds something not too pleasant.  
> Sorry I haven't answered any comments but they're greatly appreciated.  
> Thanks for reading!


	22. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm extremely late and the chapter is sadly short, hope you enjoy regardless of its length.

Stiles walks around the manor aimlessly. It's Saturday and since he did all of his homework on Friday he has the weekend free. However, he can't seem to find Derek. The rest of the pack went out for different reasons. Like Scott and Isaac. He smiles as he remembers Isaac rapping on his bedroom door while the teen explained in a hurry that Scott asked him out on a date. He looked so cute and a bit lost, if not completely confused, about his date.

He laughs quietly as he cups the soft curve of his growing belly. He's eight weeks into his pregnancy and thinking about the baby briefly distracts him. He walks down a flight of stairs carefully since the lights are dim and it makes his brow furrow in confusion.

He hasn't lived in the manor that long but he finds it odd that the lights are dim, close to darkness. Something doesn't feel right as he continues further down.

* * *

 

Derek growls at the man, his frustration growing with every second that ticks by.

"She doesn't care if I kill you or I don't, so why are you still protecting her?" The alpha asks irritated.

"If it means you and your freak pack dies then I don't care," Gerard replies as he spits blood at Derek's feet.

The man looks sickly grey under the lighting but Derek has no remorse. He's lost his patience as he raises his hand with sharp crawls mocking the old man. Derek places it above the man's ear with a smile before slashing down. This is for disrespecting him and his pack. This is for threatening his family.

A scream startles Stiles at the bottom of the steps as he watches horrified while Derek slices an older man's ear off, blood spattering every where and dribbling down his wrinkled cheek.

"I'm sure she'll appreciate another gift from the Hales," Derek says with narrowed eyes filled with glee.

Stiles feels sick, his stomach turning and forcing him to clutch at the corner of the wall as he hunches over and throws up.

The distinct sound of retching snaps Derek from his vendictive trance. Stiles' sweet smell is now putrid in fear and nausea. It makes Derek’s wolf claw at his chest when he sees his mate trembling with wide eyes staring at him.

Forgetting about Gerard, Derek hurries to Stiles and leads him upstairs with a hand steadying the dizzy teen. It's only when they're in the safety of the first level that Stiles pushes Derek away, tears brimming his whiskey eyes.

"Why?" He asks.

"Why?" Derek repeats, "he threatened my family."

"You don't have to kill him nor do you have to torture him!"

"Stiles you don't understa-"

"You're really never going to change are you?" Stiles interrupts disappointedly.

"What does that mean?"

"That you're going to keep acting like a monster!" He yells.

Both freeze and Stiles let's the tears roll down his cheek as he breathes heavily, internally regretting ever saying that. Derek’s eyes flash a varying of color, starting from gold mixing to blue and ending on crimson red. The intensity of his stare scares Stiles as he takes a step back. A dull pain radiates in his lower back and builds until it spreads and settles on his belly. He bites his lip and curls into himself with a hand pressed against the small curve of his stomach. He can't help how a small whimper escapes his lips and that painfilled terrified sound cracks Derek's wolf until the only thing left is a man who looks just as scared when he sees his mate in pain.

"Stiles," he whispers panicked hurrying to his side.

"Hurts," Stiles whimpers.

Derek strains to hear the baby's heart but he can't. He's frozen when his nose twitches and he smells Stiles' blood, blood that is beginning to stain his light blue jeans. It's then that Stiles collapses and falls to his knees whispering "no, no, no" over again and again, praying this isn't happening.

"Derek," he cries.

Derek kneels down beside Stiles unsure of what to do so he carefully lies the boy on the carpet floor and digs his phone from his pocket with bloodied hands. His callous hands shake as he dials the familiar number and tries to take off Stiles' pants as well to see if he's miscarrying. The smell of blood is overwhelming and the phone rings and rings with no answer.

Finally, as Derek reveals milky thighs stained in red, Deaton picks up.

He receives strict instructions not to move Stiles more than necessary because it can cause further damage and Derek nods despite the fact that he knows Deaton can't see but he's in shock because he's losing his cub.

"I'm sorry," he whispers to Stiles over and over again.

Weakly Stiles takes one of Derek's trembling hands in his and squeezes just so in reassurance, tears freely falling down his temples. He takes deep breaths but the blood dripping steadily from his entrance isn't reassuring. He prays that his baby is safe as he closes his eyes tight.

"I'm so sorry," the alpha chokes.

He drains Stiles' pain, his veins turning black as the boy's body slowly relaxes. Stiles breathes deepily and counts in his head before exhaling.

Deaton appears in no time and under his order, Derek carefully picks up Stiles and takes him to their bedroom where Deaton performs a much thorough examination. Derek is left pacing the hall outside considering he would wolf out and attack Deaton which would only do more harm than good and prove Stiles' point of him being a monster. If anything happens to him or their baby he'll blame himself and carry the guilt forever. He can't lose them. Not now.

He hears as Stiles heartbeat slows down and his breathing evens but he can't detect the baby's heart. When the door opens to reveal Deaton, he's almost afraid but the vet ushers him inside although warns him to be quiet for Stiles' sake. Derek nods and walks inside carefully, almost cautiously.

He sees his mate sleeping on the bed, snuggled against his pillow thinking it's Derek’s warmth wrapping around his fragile body and his scent consuming him. Derek looks at him and his heart aches.

"He's okay?"

"He's doing better," Deaton nods and waits for Derek to ask about the cub but it seems like the alpha is resigned to the fact that the baby died.

Derek doesn't mention the baby, neither does Deaton.


	23. I'm Sorry

Stiles sits in bed while rubbing his stomach soothingly.  He doesn't know what to do.  Does he really want to stay with Derek after everything that's happened?  He can't change Derek.  Derek is... is a _monster_.  But he's also honest and sincere.  Derek is _human_.

"Your papa is an idiot," Stiles mumbles and a tear slides down his pale cheek.

He hadn't seen the stupid sourwolf, not since their fight.  There's so much Stiles regrets.  He's so stupid.

"I'm sorry I stressed you out baby," he whispers sometime late.

He's still staring somewhat lost.  He hates this feeling of hopelessness and vulnerability.  He wants Derek.

"You're awake."

It's a statement more than a question laced with surprise that snaps his attention.

"Derek," Stiles breathes relieved, his heart spiking but not in fear or hate.

In his own self-loathing Derek doesn't take the time to realize it and he backs away ashamed.  Stiles tries to stand on unsteady feet and with fear gripping his heart that Stiles will hurt himself, Derek steps forward and holds him tightly.  He can't help but bury his face in the crook of Stiles neck.  He smells relief, love.

"We're okay," Stiles says.

Derek pulls back from his mate's warmth and sees the torment in those whiskey eyes.

"I'm sorry Stiles," he begins.

"Hush," he sooths and presses his index finger to chapped lips.

"Stiles I-"

"Derek, I should be apologizong," Stiles sighs, "I made a mistake.  I hate people who look at you as a monster but they do so because you're giving them reason to.  You aren't one, but you're acting like one.  And it infuriates me that they get the best of you and exploit your anger, and in my own frustrations to keep you safe from the Argents I screamed what they thought and I'm sorry."

"Stiles, you're not like them," Derek says harshly, his claws making an appearance.

"But I am, and I'm sorry," he replies and tears glisten in his eyes.

Derek smashes their lips together and leaves Stiles breathless until his legs grow weak.  Stiles manages to wrap his legs around Derek and lets him carry him to their bed.

"This was bound to happen," Derek whispers when they part.

"Hm?" He hums dazed.

"You were bound to say that, to believe it.  I've never given you any other reason but to believe that.  I'm a monster and yet you're beside me-"

"Under you," Stiles corrects

"You're not funny, but I love you.  I was so scared, terrified that I made you lose our baby.  I'm a monster but you're here and you're not scared or flinching away after all I've done.  I've never loved anyone like I love you."

"Will you tell me?"

"About?"

"The Argents?"

"Stiles no, you're pregnant-"

"And because of them I could lose our baby, Derek I need to know.  We're mates, pack... we're _family_."

"You and the baby, our little cub, mean everything to me.  I can't drag you into this," Derek shakes his head.

"Derek, Der, look at me," Stiles orders gently.

Guilty eyes turn to face him.  Stiles wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him down.  The kiss isn't gentle.  It's demanding, it's feral and everything Stiles wants.  He wants Derek.  He wants a man and a wolf.  He loves him.  Yearns for his touch and his breathing tickling his skin, wants his warmth.

"Nothing will ever stop me from loving you," he promises.

With a shaky hand he guides Derek's toward his belly, "nothing will stop me from loving my family and protecting them.  Make me understand why you do it, please."

Derek pulls off and sits with his back pressed to the headboard of their bed.  Stiles sits up with him but lays his head on his lap seeking warmth, comfort.  He plays with the hem of the wolf's shirt as he waits patiently.

"It was five years ago, I was nineteen.  I met someone.  Her name was Paige and she was... she was someone I love.  My first love I'd like to think.  I don't know all the details but Paige was poisoned.  No one knew, not even she did."

"Did she, did she know about you and your family?" Stiles asks trying hard to understand without being jealous.

"I loved to think she didn't.  If She didn't, she would be alive."

"Derek," Stiles breathes as he sits up and stares at him.

He's too lost in his haunted memories.

"Someone ran her off and she got into a car accident.  She collided with a low tree and a branch pierced her.  I smelt her blood through the forest in the wind and I thought I could save her.  She knew about us and she begged me to save her.  I tried everything but the bleeding wouldn't stopped and I bit her.  And the moment I tasted her blood I knew something was wrong.  Someone had placed wolfsbane in her drink that morning as if it was all premeditated.  She died because of the poisoning, the bite killed her.  I killed her."

"Oh my God," Stiles whispers horrified, a hand cupping his mouth.

"Then, just a few short months after grieving I met Kate Argent, she promised me the world and I believed her.  I knew her last name meant hunters but I thought she meant the "I love yous" and promises of a life between us monsters and humans.  I was naive to believe her stupid words and it nearly costed my family's life.  I found out she had killed Paige, had planned everything to the very end.  I'm glad I found out in time because she was already plotting on killing my family in a fire while we slept.  She would have killed innocents, children who were pack but human.  I tried so hard to find her but the air began to thicken with smoke and she got away with no evidence behind except faulty wiring and they believed her.  She killed innocents for ambition and power.  She wants me dead and my family," he growls, losing himself in hatred.

Stiles grasps his hand and winces when claws pierce his skin.  The smell of blood makes Derek whine and scramble out of bed.

"You humans judge us without knowing us," he glares.

Stiles stares at him surprised.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again.

Derek deflates at that, "that's why... when my father insisted on taking you in I hated you.  But I began to... to _feel_.  I saw you each morning trying to adapt to a life you've never known before and despite the difficulties you always smiled, you smiled at me.  And what I felt is nothing like I've ever felt with anyone before.  It's like I can't breathe without you near, like I can't be away from you.  And then I _raped_ you and I felt disgusted with myself because you're the one person I vowed to protect.  I fell in love with you and after that, after you forgave me, you became pregnant and I didn't know what to feel with a baby, our cub, inside of you.  I think I fell even more in love because you want this, you want me, us.  I didn't intend to hurt you but when I thought you miscarried and I smelled your blood I panicked.  I couldn't lose you."

Stiles feels overwhelmed but the admission makes his heart flutter.

"I didn't know what love is," he admits softly.

Derek looks at him and Stiles takes a deep breath.

"But I trust you with my very being.  This isn't because we're mated.  This is me, I love you for who you are.  You have always protected me despite pretending to hate me.  I noticed Derek, and I loved you more because I realized you never wanted to hurt me.  But I was hurt beyond repair.  That night I knew it wasnt you.  But I have already lost people I loved, I don't want to lose you or our baby.  I want this, I want you.  You're mine and we'll fight together.  No more secrets or lies.  I don't want you to continue working as a criminal, as the boss of the Russian Mafia, because I'm scared of losing you.  I don't want to lose you.  I love you more than life.  You and our baby mean everything to me," he whispers and the tears spill.

Derek wraps him in his arms and rocks them back and forth.  He mutters nonsense.  He vows to protect them from anyone, from himself.  He begs for forgiveness but all Stiles wants is to be held, loved.  They both stay awake until late at night both talking about their dreams, about the baby as their joined hands rest on the small swell of life under Stiles heart.  Derek allows himself this moment of vulnerability and allows himself to listen to the soft, rapid flutter of the baby's heartbeat. A sound he thought he'd never hear again.  He nuzzles Stiles soft skin and kisses him.

Stiles eventually falls asleep in Derek's arms, leans into his warm embrace, safe, loved and protected.  They'll fight together.


End file.
